A Pirate's life for me
by AbiNotNormal
Summary: A return to the world with James Norrington and his wife Abigail, after the events of AWE and off of that blasted pirate ship. But their own adventures and stories await them. Rated M for belts, stockings, Jamie being hot af and bottom biting. If this is new to you, I suggest you read my earlier stories for POTC. Or skim over them, the grammar there is awful.
1. Letters I

_'My Dearest Jamie,_

_I know as you read this, you'll be looking for me. Please, stop. I'm not lost. I have not been taken against my will._

_I cannot say too much, but I will write to you again soon, love x_

_Yours,_

_Abigail_

_Xxxxxxxx_

_To My Darling Jamie,_

_I know it's been a couple of weeks now and I hope you are well. I cannot fathom what you must be feeling or what you must think of me, but please stay strong. I'll contact you again soon and it will all be clear._

_Yours forever,_

_Abigail_

_Xxxxxxxxx_

_Jamie,_

_It's time. We'll see each other again soon. My next letter will be a set of instructions and please follow them. Also, I heard about Pierre, please do not shoot the next person who brings you a letter. And don't be mad, my love x we'll be together, I promise x_

_Abigail_

As Former Commodore-Admiral-Pirate ruffian James Norrington looked down at the crumpled letter in his hand, he couldn't help but feel a little mad. Alright, he was fuming. He was so angry and betrayed and a whole tirade of emotions were running wildly through his chest and head and they all screamed one thing: Get to Abigail.

It had all started with her sudden change of behavior. She was evasive, she couldn't seem to sleep and no matter how many jobs Jamie took over from her, he couldn't seem to get her to relax. She was distracted and she would not open up to anyone, not even her own husband.

Barbossa had not noticed (nor would he have cared if he had) and whilst he wouldn't call his shipmates 'friends', one or two had promised to keep an eye on her when he couldn't.

He'd damned himself for not keeping a closer eye on her when the ship docked at the next port. Most of the crew had left to 'stretch their legs' and 'spread their seeds', but Abigail had merely stated she was going to check up any mail she may have had. She'd kissed him goodbye and he should have known then that something was wrong. She'd held him closer. She'd whispered 'I love you' to him. And when she disappeared into the crowds, she'd turned around one last time and blown him a kiss.

That was the last time he'd seen her.

When she hadn't returned after a few hours, he merely thought she had been held up. When she hadn't returned and night had fallen, he'd gone to look for her. He'd asked around and no one had seen her.

And when the early hours of the morning began to settle around him and pirates, sailors, whores and townsfolk alike finally collapsed in their warm beds for the night, Jamie had begun to call for her.

He'd cried out her name and searched every corner and every boat he could find. He'd asked and offered his own blood and money for any word of her.

Nothing.

She'd gone. Vanished.

Pintel had found him the next morning. Seated on the dock and looking out at the sun rising. He couldn't comfort him, nor did he have any idea how. That first week passed by in a blur of pain and worry for Jamie.

By day, he looked for her. He asked around again and begged people to let him know if they saw anything. By night, he took back to the rum and alehouses he'd frequented so many times before. He had to. He had to get the drink back in him to numb the pain and stop the dreams.

With no word, his mind ran rampant with different scenarios as to what could have happened to her. He'd seen her walk away and whilst it broke his heart, he hoped she'd merely walked back to her old life. Away from the sea, away from the pirates...away from him.

He'd dreamed of her lost and hurt, forgetting who she was and where she was meant to be. Wandering, alone and scared and unable to get back to him.

And then, the worst dreams began. The ones he tried to suppress for so long, but as his hope waned and the week went on, he dreamed of her taken from him. Bound. Held against her will and away from any help. Prying hands pulling at her as she cried out for mercy and him.

It was on the night he dreamed her dead, he vowed he wouldn't sleep for longer than an hour at a time. He couldn't.

And then the first letter showed up. Delivered to him by a man called Pierre, who had placed it in his hands and told him that his wife had wanted to send him it and something else. Jamie had been given a pouch of coins but he hadn't bothered to look inside. He'd dropped both the letter and pouch on the ground, pulled out his pistol and shoved it under Pierre's chin.

"Where is my wife? Where is she, What have you done with her?!"

Pierre, it seemed, didn't speak perfect English and had only cried out for mercy and that he did not know. Both Pintel and Ragetti had pulled Jamie off of the poor man and given him a chance to run away, though Jamie had managed to get them off and give Pierre a parting shot that lodged itself directly into the man's backside. He seemed to run faster, even whilst clutching one of his buttcheeks.

Pintel and Ragetti had brought him back to reality and placed the letter and pouch (albeit reluctantly when they felt the weight) into his hand and, shoving the pouch deep into his coat pocket, eagerly opened the letter. What he read made all his feelings of worry vanish and be replaced by a whole new tirade. There was a wave of growing anger, but it was being smothered by the feeling that...she had truly let him. Whilst she had called him 'love' and told him she'd write to him again, she told him to stop looking for her. That she wasn't being held against her will.

She'd really walked off and left him that day.

Jamie had used most of the money in the pouch that evening to buy so much rum, he could have filled a small tub with the stuff. He hadn't woken until the next evening, with a sore head, throbbing throat, and a sickening feeling in his stomach that he managed to rid himself of quite quickly. By vomiting his entire stomach contents onto his boots.

Barbossa had left by this point. The Pearl was gone. Pintel and Ragetti had tried to get him back onto the ship, but Barbossa had stated that 'a man with half a shattered heart and soul was only going to bring bad luck' and left him there. Seated at the dock and watching them go, he felt...a pang of relief. Yes, he was free of his servitude upon the Black Pearl, but at what cost? He was alone.

And then the second letter came. And he'd read it again and again and this time, assured of her love for him, allowed his anger to grow. She'd left him. After everything they'd gone through, after everything they'd promised one another, she'd left him and was writing him cryptic letters and the promise that they'd see one another again?

Jamie had taken to fighting again. For a whole week, he was bruised, cut, and sprained multiple appendages, but he didn't care. He needed an outlet and by God, if it meant hitting a few unsavory characters, he'd happily do just that.

After that, the weeks passed by in a blur. When he wasn't drinking, he was passed out. When he wasn't fighting, he was passed out. And when he wasn't searching around for a sign of Abigail...he was passed out. He only remembered to eat when his stomach forced him to.

Months passed. Almost three, when the last letter turned up. Along with the letter was another pouch of money, and the instruction to follow. He'd been led to a carriage and made to get in. When he looked over the other letter, he found it was actually a map with detailed directions to another town. A few day's journey.

He was going to see her in a few days. She loved him and she was getting closer the more the carriage went forward. And whilst his heart ached for her, it also ached for something else that she needed to give him: Answers.


	2. Letters II

Letters P2

He was here. After a day of travelling by carriage, cart and then by foot, he was here. On a dusty road, outside a house, he had never been to, but he knew was his destination.

Abigail's instructions had been thorough and written well and even if he hadn't had the little notes and letters from people, he still had helpful messengers. Those he met, would not divulge too much about meeting his wife but made sure he knew where he was heading and the quickest way to get there.

The most helpful being a woman whose daughter ran after him as he walked away, another crumpled note in his hand with directions. She'd grabbed his sleeve and asked him if he had any mint humbugs in his pocket. Jamie had been very surprised, considering they were his favourite sweet of choice. He'd knelt down and asked her how she had known to ask him for these, to which she replied, "Abigail said they were your favourite and you usually had some in your pocket when you were on land."

"Do you remember Abigail?"

"Oh yes, she played with me and my dolly and gave my mama some coppers for medicine," the little girl held up her doll for him to see and made her do a little dance for him, "me and Annabella were sick, but the medicine helped us. Does that mean you have no mint humbugs?"

Jamie had only smiled and given the girl a handful of his own coppers.

"Go and buy some Mint Humbugs for you and Annabella. I need to go and see my wife."

"Tell her I said hello and that I hope she found a pretty house with lots of flowers in the garden!"

The girl had slipped away as quickly as she had appeared and Jamie felt a little lighter. Abigail had been here, talked about him and finding a house. And he was sure now, he would know the place she was guiding him when he saw it. All he had to do was to look out for the flowers.

And when he finally traversed through the last town and walked along the road that led through a wooded area and popped out the other side, the farmhouse that greeted him...he just knew.

The house itself appeared to have seen better days, but considering Jamie had just lived almost a year on a pirate ship, he wasn't really one to criticize the exterior.

The walls were not crumbling, but he could tell someone had been attempting to clean them the best they could without the use of a ladder or longer arms. He could picture Abigail, trying to hang herself out of a window with a broom in her hand as she tried to clean the walls.

The walls had been repaired along the top with new rocks and stones and the gate had been recently repainted a midnight blue and as he walked through it and looked either side of him at the garden, he couldn't help but smile.

Abigail had clearly been busy at the garden, pulling out the weeds and leaving patches of fresh earth for new seeds, but she'd purposefully left the prettiest wildflowers growing. Not necessarily ones with the strongest scent, but the most vibrant colours.

_'Typical Abigail.'_

As he came to the front door, he raised his hand, ready to knock but then noticed it was actually slightly open. Had she been expecting him? Was she already inside, waiting for him?

His hot and sweaty palm pressed against the wood and pushed gently, the door creaking open as he did so.

"Abigail?" He called out expectantly, almost wishing to hear her voice call him back straight away, welcoming him home.

Nothing.

No voice, no singing, no sound of any kind. Maybe...had he gotten the wrong house?

As he carefully stepped into the doorway, he called out again and waited. If she didn't reply, someone had to live here. In which case, was he about to meet an angry farmer with a pistol?

Again, no reply and as he awkwardly stood in the small alcove looking around himself, he knew he couldn't just stand there all day. Or evening as it were, the sun now beginning to set and dimming the light slowly around him.

The candles and lamps in the house had already been lit, so however had been here, hadn't been gone long and was coming back soon...he hoped.

Slowly, he began to walk around and explore the house and its surroundings. When he turned left, there was an empty room, only furnished with a single rug by a large fireplace.

He quickly navigated right and found the next set of rooms much more accommodating. The living area had not only a bookshelf, rug and table but also a comfy looking chair set by a much smaller hearth. The chair itself was old but looked comfy and reminded him of one his grandfather had.

The room was connected by a large open doorway which led to a Kitchen area. A single dining table with three chairs sat around it and a small vase in the middle with no flowers. The countertop was clean and what cupboards he inspected only had a few jars of preservatives and a bundle of bread. Enough for one person.

He found the door leading into what he presumed was the back garden and could only make out a large wall through the window. He hoped there was a well and outhouse, otherwise, where would she get her water from?

There was a stove in the corner with an old, battered kettle sitting on top of it and when he cautiously placed his hand against the side, he found it was still warm. It was then that he took a deep breath in through his nose and smelt it. He smelt her. He knew then that this was definitely her home. That she had been here, not too long ago. Maybe, even not so far now?

He had remembered seeing a set of stairs as he passed between rooms and now, curiosity and hope filling him, he set off up them.

"Abigail?" He called out again and listened closely. The only answer was the creaking of the wooden stairs beneath his feet.

As he got to the landing and looked around, he noticed four doors all shut to him. He opened the first one and found a small bathroom. It seemed to have all the necessities, including a large wooden tub sitting in the middle of the room, covered in clean linens and with a small bucket of accessories to the side.

He continued on down the hallway and opened the next door. Another sparse room, no rug and one window. The next room was exactly the same, though this seemed to have been inhabited by a small family of spiders. He knew she wouldn't have frequented that room much.

When he opened the last door and stepped inside, he was surprised by not only the furnishings but the neatness of everything. She'd obviously worked well to make this room as hospitable as she could. The bed frame, sheets, bedside table and trunk at the bottom of the bed were all brand new and clean. He didn't want to pry too much, but he had a feeling the trunk was full of clothes. Then he saw the medicine bag, open on the table. He carefully moved over to it and plucked the contents between his fingertips. They appeared to be medicinal tea leaves of some kind, but he did not recognise them. Putting them back carefully, he left the room and looked around again. She was not here. He did not know where she had gone but his heart sank. Had he missed her? Had she known he was coming and left again?

He slowly made his way down the stairs, not purposefully making any noise as he went as he was too caught up in his thoughts. It was when he had reached the bottom and turned back towards the kitchen did he see her.

Her back was to him and she'd obviously come in from the back door as it was still wide open. She was fiddling about with a basket on the table and singing quietly to herself. She hadn't heard him. She didn't know he was there.

His breath caught in his throat as he took one, then two cautious steps forward and just looked at her. She was wearing clean clothing, had her hair falling down her back and seemed content and happy.

He didn't want to move or call out to her, just...watch her. Look at her and know she was alive and happy.

But she moved. She slowly turned around and took off her shawl to put on the back of her chair when she must have seen him out of the corner of her eye. Of course, she didn't KNOW it was him, so she jumped and let out a gasp of surprise that someone was in her home.

But her eyes widened and she gripped hold of the chair she'd put her shawl on and looked at him. Her breathing quickened and he saw the moment her eyes filled with love and recognition for him, despite his unkempt and dirtied appearance.

"Jamie!" She managed to gasp out as she looked over him and whilst he wanted nothing more than to walk over, gather her up in his arms and never let her go again, there was a stronger, overwhelming feeling pulling at him: anger.


	3. Letters III

Letters P3

"Jamie!" She called him again, her smile spreading across her face and when she moved, he knew she intended to hold him and kiss him and God knows he would have forgiven her right then and there, but he was angry and he had questions.

"Don't."

She stopped moving at his single command and finally registered the anger in his eyes. Directed right at her.

"Jamie, I-" she made to explain but both his hands came up and he seemed to be trying to control himself.

"Don't. I have questions. I need you to answer them."

"Of course, Love, anything."

He took deep calming breaths and shut his eyes tight. Of everything he wanted to know...of all the things, the most important one just came out before he stopped it.

"Why?"

Such a simple question. One that had weighed heavily on his mind and heart. When he opened his eyes again, she was nervously fiddling with her hands, slowly but still noticeable.

She gave him a tentative smile.

"It's a long story...do you want some tea whilst I tell it?"

He just shook his head and knowing there was no point in prolonging it by offering him food or a seat, she just decided to spill it all out.

"When we were on the ship, it was...alright at first. I thought, with you by my side I could handle anything and everything. But," she shook her head, her resolve fizzing out when she thought back to how it was, "there was so much to put up with. Every storm we could have died, anytime a fight broke out one of us usually ended up bandaging the other...it got too much. All I wanted was privacy and there was never that on a bloody pirate ship. After everything...Jamie, after everything we'd been through, my adventuring had run out. I just wanted a normal life. I wanted to live my life with you away from the sea."

Jamie struggled to breathe. He'd been afraid of that happening and whilst he'd noticed her odd behavior, he'd completely missed that it was because she wanted to just leave the life of a pirate behind...not him. But he let her continue. There was still more and he needed to know.

"Do you remember when we made Port five months ago? At Tortuga and we had a week to just...do what we wanted?"

He did remember. It was supposed to only be a couple of days, but the vast majority of the crew (including Barbossa) just disappeared and no one knew where they had gone exactly. When they had returned, they said there was 'nothing to talk about' and Barbossa walked with a very distinct limp.

"Well, whilst you were attending to your duties and being productive I...met someone," she saw the momentary panic in his eyes and backtracked quickly, "an old client of my father's. He recognised me despite my...drastic appearance apparently...anyway, we got talking and he alerted me that I might want to get in contact with my father's law firm. Apparently, people were looking for me. So, the next day I sent off a letter and told the woman to alert me about anything sent back when I returned. When I did, I discovered something rather surprising."

Jamie watched her take a few nervous steps forwards before she turned slightly and began to pace.

"They were shocked to hear from me. Everyone thought I had died on the ship with my father but obviously, they knew it was me from the information I provided. And they wrote back with someone coming to look for me and when they did...well, I had to make up a quick story about getting shipwrecked with my husband and not being able to return. They bought it and we got down to business."

She stopped for a moment and looked at Jamie, asking him silently if he wanted her to continue. He nodded.

"We discussed a few issues but the most important one being that my father's affairs had been...well, left. Stalled as it were. One of my distant cousins' took it on but had shown no interest in the actual business side of things and was just waiting for someone to buy them out. So...I offered to take it. And they agreed."

"You-you're," she cleared her throat and held out her arms, humbly introducing her title, "you are looking at the new owner of...one of the best trading companies. The one my father started up. Gilbert and...Daughter. Formerly Gilbert and Sons but..."

She dawdled off and he saw the heavy sag in her shoulders, remembering her history. She'd lost everyone.

He wanted to go to her and comfort her, but he held himself back when she continued.

"And...since I had all these affairs to sort up and consider what I wanted to do with them, that required my time on land. Especially with all the money."

"Money?" He had wondered where she got the money to afford the house and the travel she'd paid for him. Taking on her father's company and assets explained it.

"Well...we're not rich but...there's enough."

"For?"

Abigail stopped pacing to face him, a shy smile spreading across her face.

"I had enough for a cottage of my own. A farm, clothing, food...enough to start a family."

Jamie, who had up until that point been trying to remain neutral, flicked his gaze down at her stomach and felt his resolve soften.

"Are you?"

Abigail merely laughed, his favourite sound in the whole world.

"No, but I had a false alarm on that bloody ship. Scared the living daylights out of me. But then...I got thinking and that's what started this all off. I wasn't prepared to live our life on a pirate ship. There's no way you can keep a baby on there. Hector would have made me give them away or sent me away with them. And being dropped off alone, waiting for you to return. I wasn't...I was being selfish."

His expression changed to that of great hurt and Abigail reached out to touch him, but he sent her a warning look.

"Don't. I'm-I'm mad at you," he knew he sounded like a petulant child, but he really was mad.

She kept her hands together, clasped tightly at her waist.

"I know...but it was the only way I could get us out of there, away from that life and...regardless of whether or not they were our friends, from those pirates. If we had tried to open and leave there would have been a whole thing about desertion and pirate honour and code and I just...I know what you get like."

Now he just felt offended.

"Like what?" He demanded.

"Your code of conduct. We'd been trying to get out for months now and this...this was the only way we could do it. Well, there was another way, but I didn't think you'd appreciate it," she smiled, trying to lighten the mood, but he merely arched his brow in the quiet question.

"Maroon ourselves on a desert island."

Jamie scoffed and looked away from her. He was slightly amused, but he wouldn't show it. Not yet.

"You wrote all the notes. All the letters. Why? Why so many places?!"

"To throw anyone off of your trail encase you DID get followed."

He turned back to look at her and noted her hands worrying together, almost frantic now.

"I am sorry...I was stupid and scared and didn't think it through properly but after a month...I was already in way too deep to turn back. I didn't want to come back to you with nothing to show and...I am sorry."

It broke his heart to see her looking at him with such worry and yet he could not bring himself to move. Nor could he bring himself to say anything to her at that moment. His anger hadn't fully left him, but he felt his restraint weakening and he just wanted to hold her and whisper everything was ok. But it wasn't. Not really.

She noticed his unchanging pose and sighed, withdrawing back into herself.

"I'll make you some tea. And food, you must be hungry," she moved slowly around him, back towards the kitchen. She hesitated for a moment when she stood next to him, reveling in the heat coming off of his body. But she didn't know if it was anger or another emotion she longed for. So she kept walking.

He turned slowly to watch her bustle about in the kitchen again. She took out a cup and a plate of something and began to put some of the contents back on the table, back into the basket so she could prepare him something.

She was purposefully keeping her gaze down and away from him as she busied herself. He watched her move again. He watched the way her arms stretched out and shake with nerves. The way her hair kept falling down to obscure her features, but she kept tucking it back behind her ear.

And then his eyes ran over her body, hungrily. And he moved. He moved as she turned around.

Jamie grabbed her and spun her back to face him. For a moment, as they looked into one another's eyes, they just watched each other. Jamie could see her anxiety and hope, her chest heaving up and down waiting for him to make the next move. Abigail could see his frustration and hunger and she hated being the cause of one. The other, she didn't mind so much. Not when he was so close to her.

Her hand reached out and touched his cheek, tenderly holding him and letting him know it was ok.

One of his hands came around her back and the other, gripped the side of her head as he brought her lips to his. Abigail kissed him back with as much force as he was giving and it was evident just what they had missed.

Their bodies came together and they both moaned into the kiss as they felt one another's warmth. One Another's pressure. Their wants. His hands began to move and feel her, realising quickly that there were far too many layers between them.

Jamie pulled his lips away from hers and looked down at her, the fire still in his eyes as his hands rested at her waist.

"Never. EVER. Leave me for so long again without saying why."

She quivered beneath his touch and tone, though there was no terror.

"I know. I'm sor-"

She barely got out her apology before he dove on her again, his hands gripping at the fabric of her waist to pull her flush against him.

Her hands moved about his person and found themselves in between the fabric of his shirt and jacket. She began to push the material away.

He stopped again, way too soon for her liking and took a step away. He pulled off his jacket himself and threw it across the table without taking his eyes off of her.

"Upstairs. Now."

Abigail knew if she said no, right now, he wouldn't push her. But as it was, with that hungry look in his eyes and the way her body was screaming at her to run upstairs immediately, she turned and managed a sedate pace, through the room and up the stairs. Slowly untying the knot of her apron and throwing it over the stair banister.

Jamie watched her go and waited until he heard her on the landing above before taking deep breaths. He removed his shoes without unbuckling them and left them by the kitchen table. He then followed her path upstairs and made his way to the bedroom.

She stood with her back to him, facing the bed and her hands wrapped around her waist. He could hear her heavy breathing and see the way her entire body shook with excitement, expectation and nerves.

He came to stand behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. He grasped her hair in his hands and carefully parted it over one shoulder.

His head bent low and rested against the side of hers. With restrained and practised ease, his hands came round and began to unlace the front of her dress. Abigail didn't offer to help him, but moved her arms back to the sides and gripped his forearms, her nails digging into the fabric of his shirt.

"Three Months," he whispered as the ribbon fell away. He pulled the item back and down and she reluctantly let go as he slid it off of her arms.

"Three Months. One week," his hands made quick work with the tie to her top skirt, "and two days."

The heavy skirt fell to the floor quicker than she thought possible.

She turned her head to him.

"I'm sorry-" He silenced her with a brief and commanding kiss as he began to pull at the ribbon of her light petticoat.

"I've missed you," he said as he finally pulled away and began to plant kisses over her face and neck, "your eyes. Your laugh. Your smell."

As the fabric of her petticoat fell to the floor also, he dropped to his knees and held her hips in a firm grip. She felt his hands pull up the fabric of her blouse and she gasped at the exposure.

"Hello, old friend," he muttered before he pulled her back and keeping a tight grip, bit her on her left cheek.

"JAMIE!" She tried to turn and push his hands away, "We've talked about this!"

When one of his hands moved and grasped her firmly in between her legs, she cried out at the pressure she'd so sorely missed.

"No, no. you don't get to yell at me, I'm still mad at you and this is punishment," he carefully began to rub torturous circles using his palm and fingers as he kissed and bit her playfully on the same cheek.

She leaned back and grasped at his arms again for support, especially when his fingers finally parted her folds and felt her wetness.

He growled behind her and purposefully curved his fingers against her before retreating, spreading her wetness over her as he gently dragged his fingertips over her bundle of nerves.

She clutched at him and began to shake.

"Jamie, please, I can't stand up anymore."

He could feel her breaking beneath his fingers, her legs ready to give way. He stopped his ministrations and she whimpered as he stood, his hands trailing upwards, underneath her shirt and both cupping her breasts.

He leaned in again, close to her ear, and just held her.

"Off."

She understood and raised her arms up as he pulled off her blouse, flinging it halfway across the room. He didn't return to touching her the same as he was doing, instead, he placed his hand flat against her back.

"Crawl onto the bed for me. Lie down and turn your face against the pillow."

She obediently did as she was told and turned her face, watching him from over her shoulder. He began to undress with haste and soon, his clothes joined hers on the floor.

He paused for a moment as he looked down at her, the window now being the only source of light as the moon came out from behind the clouds.

"Bathed in the moonlight," he whispered before leaning over and crawling to join her on the bed.

He steadied himself when he reached her but instead of lying flush against her, he diverted and laid beside her, looking into her wide eyes.

"Don't say anything. Not yet."

His hand came out and began to stroke her with the familiar tenderness that made her want to cry out. She'd missed his touch. His loving embrace.

He traced her shoulders and back, his hand splaying flat in some places as she dipped and curved. He cupped her cheek where he had bitten her playfully and drew his hand back up again.

She raised her head from the pillow and looked at him. He wasn't just feeling her body for pleasure. He was making sure she was beneath him.

"Jamie."

Her hand came out and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him down to her so her lips could claim his.

She knew, whatever he had planned for her 'punishment' would have to wait. Their hands began to roam and she turned herself to press herself flush against his body, James eagerly responding.

They spent an hour, slowly getting reacquainted and making love. They were slow, calm, and heated. They brought one another to the brink and back down again.

They praised one another's bodies with their lips, their hands, and every fiber of their being.

When they both had called out the others' names and began to slow back down, James pulled her close to him holding her in his arms as his face buried into the top of her head.

Her arms rested themselves between their torso's and she splayed her hands flat against his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath her. Her brain eventually caught up with the rest of her and she remembered something.

"Jamie," she pulled her head back to look up at him as he reluctantly loosened his grip, "I left food downstairs."

She couldn't quite make out his face with only the moonlight shining in through the window, but his tone spoke volumes.

"I'm not finished with your punishment yet."

"This was a punishment? That explains why my legs feel like jelly," she switched tones to match his, stern and formidable, "YOU have to eat and keep your strength up. You've had a long journey. You at least need some water."

Jamie's arms loosened around her and she felt his hands fall to her hips.

"Yes, that is technically true. But then, so do you," he shifted her suddenly and rolled on top of her, pressing her back into the soft mattress, "you are not permitted to leave this bed until I return."

The kiss he gave her was supposed to leave her breathless and quivering beneath him, but she defiantly lifted her chin.

"Oh? And what are you going to do to stop me?"

She could see his wide smile from above. He had missed their bedroom banter.

"If you don't behave, I may have to tie you down with my belt."

Abigail felt a strange and familiar heat in her stomach that spread lower and she arched into him as she spoke.

"That's a good incentive to disobey you. Will you keep your promise?"

Jamie actually growled. She'd heard him growl many times before but tonight, as he lay on top of her and she wiggled beneath him, she felt the growl deep from within him.

Suddenly with that familiar quickness he had, he rolled off of her and out of the bed. He skilfully landed on his feet and marched out of the room, completely naked and muttering something about 'woman'.

Abigail watched him and waited until she heard him creak loudly down the stairs. She sat up and swung her feet out of the bed.

She made quick work in the bedside table, reaching for the candle and its holder and the matches she kept there. As she lit the wick, she smiled to herself.

_'I want to see his face,'_ she thought of how, when they made love in the shadows of the night, she'd longed to see his face as he came unbroken with her.

As she walked back around the other side of the bed to meet him at the door, she found the squeaky floorboard and pressed her bare feet against the wood, leaning into it and prolonging the satisfying creak it let out.

Jamie called from downstairs.

"I can hear you moving up there."

Abigail just smiled, even though she knew he couldn't see it.

"Better get the belt then," she spotted it lying on the floor a couple of feet from her, "Commodore."

The silence that met her for a few heartbeats was just as satisfying as the sudden growl he let out.

"Wench!"

Quickly, as she heard his feet start up the stairs again, she scooped up the belt and pulled its length between her hands and firmly grasped the smooth end and the buckle.

He rounded the corner and stopped in the doorway. They both stared at one another.

Her with his belt in her hands and he, holding a small glass of water.

Her heart fluttered wildly. Even when ready to let his passion take over, he would still consider her first.

The candlelight helped a lot. She stared into his eyes as he looked between her and the belt. He wanted her. He was hungry and he wanted her, but she also saw that hesitation in his face. He didn't want to push her too far.

"If you want me to stop, you must tell me. Understand?"

She gave him an encouraging smile and nod.

"Yes. Jamie, yes."

Satisfied by her reply, he took a mouthful of the water in the glass before setting it down on the floor, out of the way.

Without saying another word he walked towards her and she could already tell what he planned to do. Taking her face in his hands, he pressed his lips down to hers and she parted her lips, letting the water flow into her mouth. She drank it all and neither of them cared when some spilled out and fell between them.

She felt a trickle fall from down her chin, over her neck, and onto one of her breasts. Jamie pulled back and greedily licked the path as if he was parched. His mouth came over her nipple and suckled furiously as she grasped onto his shoulders, forgetting about the belt until it was pressed taut against him.

He pulled back and stood straight up, his hands grabbing hers.

"Are you ready?" He pressed his forehead to her and she felt his hot breath against her skin.

She was taking deep breaths and was unable to form any more words, her mind currently going into overdrive when his fingers splayed over the leather of the belt.

She nodded and watched him draw back, her hands still in his grasp.

Carefully, he held her hands in place and began to thread and loop his belt around her wrists. They were not tight, but she could feel his own hands shaking silently as he pulled the end through the buckle. Finally, his hands left her and she opened her clenched fists, twisting and turning in the confines of the belt. She was secure, but he'd left her space to be comfy.

Her hands then splayed out flat against his chest and they looked into one another's eyes, unsure of what to do next.

"I can feel your heart beating as fast as mine."

He smiled at her and stooped low again as he moved forward. She understood what he wanted and looped her bound hands behind his neck. His hands came around and cupped her buttocks, pulling her forwards. As he kissed her, they both couldn't contain their laughter as she hopped up and entwined her legs around his hips, Jamie stumbling forward in surprise and allowing the momentum to carry them back until his legs hit the bed.

He eased her down and they both refused to let go of one another, clinging to one another. If they were to drown, they would sink fast below the waves and lay at the bottom still entwined.


	4. Letters IV

Letters IV

"Are you unwell?"

Abigail was half asleep and lying atop her husband when he asked her that. She raised her head from his chest and pushed herself up on her arms.

"What on earth makes you ask that?"

He turned towards the bedside table and nodded his head, indicating her to look.

She visibly winced as her eyes met the small bag, the leaves spilling out on top of the wooden surface. She pushed herself further back until she was straddling one of his legs and looking down at him, with a worried expression on her face.

"I-I don't want you to be mad."

Jamie sat himself up and drew his free knee up to lean an arm on it. He kept his expression neutral.

"What is it?"

She took a deep breath and placed her hands over her chest, more so to keep herself fidgeting rather than to hide from him.

"There's a midwife who specialises in this tea," she glanced down at his chest, unable to look him in the eye, "It will help-it will stop...it won't allow me to bear a child whilst I am taking it."

She let the last bit on in such a rush, she wasn't sure she'd said it clearly enough for him to hear. But when she glanced at his face, she knew he had.

His brow was furrowed and he shifted closer to her.

"I thought you wanted them?"

She immediately dropped her hands and laid them flat against his chest.

"I do. I DO, I swear to you but-I'm being selfish again," she looked down at her hands and smiled sadly, "Jamie...we've had no time to just...be with each other, like this...as we are now. I don't know how long that will last and I just...I wanted one less worry, just for a few months. Please. Please understand."

He hadn't taken his eyes off of her face, even though she was hesitant to look directly at him. He shifted around until he could sit up without support and grabbed her face with his hands.

"I do," he leant forward and placed a chaste kiss against her lips, "I do understand. I suppose I can be selfish also."

"How so?" Her brow furrowed and he pulled her close to kiss it. He then pulled back to place soft, gentle kisses against the side of her head, before settling near her ear.

"I want you to keep taking it...I want you all to myself. I want," he paused as he gripped her hair tenderly and urged her to tilt her head back so he could place kisses against her neck, "I want all of you. I want you laid beneath me, unable to control yourself. And then...I want you on top of me. I want you to look down at me as you ride me."

Abigail was actually speechless. Her eyes were shut at his words and she moaned whenever his lips punctuated each statement with a kiss against her hot skin. Whilst one hand maintained its hold against the back of her head, the other began to slowly wander down and she felt his fingertips trace light patterns over her.

"Jamie," her hands had fallen slowly downwards and now lay either side of his hips, her hands desperately close to his own sex. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she felt...overpowered by his words. And she loved it.

"I want to take you in every room in this house, lay you on the floors and hold you against the walls. Have you seated upon my lap. I want to stand you before every window at night, bathed in moonlight and be inside of you as you gaze at the stars. I want you spread out by the fireplace during winter. I want to punish you for running away. I want to bind your hands together and force you to hold onto me as I bring you to the height of ecstasy. I want you to rake your nails over my skin again, marking me as yours. I want you to show me how much you missed me. I want you to cry out my name, unreserved until your voice is hoarse."

Abigail gasped as his hand came to rest in between her legs and cupped her firmly. She whimpered when he didn't move any more than that though.

"I want to pleasure you with my lips. My tongue. My hands," he leant back in closer to her ear to whisper, "my cock."

She cried out when his fingers began to move, separating her already wet folds and dipping in between to stroke and tease her. She very nearly came undone then and there, but he pulled his head away from hers and guided her head back down to look at him.

He gazed at her with love and adoration as he continued to stroke her and spread the wetness around. Her moans filled the room and echoed around the house.

"You're already eager for me to start. But not yet. Hold it for a little while longer. This will be our life now. I want to take you in my arms every night and just hold you. And I will always, always ask if you want this. I will never-I will never force you," he let go of her head to loop his arm around her waist and suddenly pull her closer to his lap so he could kiss her without moving her, "I want to pleasure you until you can no longer bear it. I want to be ruled by you and you alone. My Queen. My Love. My Everything."

His fingers finally slipped inside of her and his thumb brushed up against the bud of nerves, massaging them slowly.

"Let go," he whispered before bending his head and taking one of her nipples in his mouth, suckling earnestly.

Abigail did let go. Her head fell back and she screamed his name as she rode out her orgasm. Her hips wildly bucked against his hand and her trapped hands grasped at his hips for dear life. She would have fallen backwards had it not been for his strong, secure arm wrapped around her.

As Jamie pulled her back down and tucked her under the covers with him, he couldn't keep the smirk from his face as she clung onto him and shook, her body still sensitive.

"I think you've been suitably punished. I forgive you," he kissed the top of her head and held her tight to him with both arms.

When next she spoke, her voice was very quiet and little more than a whine.

"Remind me to disobey you more...but not too often."

He chuckled and gave her a squeeze.

"Your legs are still shaking."

"Can't stop them. I think something in my brain went off," she laughed shakily and held tightly onto him, finally getting her breathing to work.

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At some point during the night, Jamie had run back downstairs again and procured some more food and water. They'd eaten an apple each and Abigail had barely enough time to finish her glass before Jamie's renewed energy got the better of him and he rolled her on top of him.

They'd made love for hours and between desperate kisses and passionate touches, there was laughter and terms of endearment that they only shared.

"Our own bed. Our own house. Our own sheets," Abigail had said at some point as she lay at his feet, holding onto his ankles through the covers.

"That we don't have to change whenever we wish to use it," his hands rubbed up and down her calf muscles. As his hand went higher along and brushed the back of her thigh, she looked at him coyly. Whilst he lay under the covers, she'd chosen to rest completely naked on top of them.

"I mean, depends on how much we use it," she smirked and quickly scrambled back up and over to him, Jamie letting her tug down the sheets from his torso so they rested at his hip.

She stopped when she looked at his chest and her hand ran over the ugly scar lingering on his skin.

"How has it been?" She did not look him in the eye and he noticed how sad her tone was. His hand came up and rested on hers, stopping her movements as he entwined their fingers together.

He couldn't lie to her. Not only would she know that he was lying, but he wanted to tell her the truth anyway. Not to hurt her, never that. Simply to let her know that their parting meant a great deal to him.

"Some days it was bearable. Other days, it was not."

He watched her face contort and quickly pulled her forward, holding her to him.

"It's all right. Don't," he whispered to her as he felt the first sob escape her, his hands stroking, soothing around her back.

"I'm sorry. I know you said you forgive me, but I can't forgive myself," she turned her head to the side so her voice wasn't muffled by his chest. Her hands gripped onto his sides.

Jamie didn't know the right words to comfort her. So instead, he asked her for them.

"I told you what you meant to me once," He pulled her down so she was lying against him and in a more comfortable position, "but I have a feeling all my pledges of love won't help. So tell me, what makes me so loveable?" He chuckled, trying to play it off lightly.

"I love you...more than the stars and the moon," she sniffed back her tears and found the words rolling off her tongue, "more than the sky and the sea. I love you more than sweet tea and hot cross buns."

They both laughed at that.

"I love you more than any gold or jewellery you could throw at me. I love you more than any person I've ever met before," she turned and raised her head to watch him as he looked at her, "I love you to death and back. I love you...more than life itself. And it terrifies me sometimes. The grip you have on my heart is immeasurable."

Jamie grinned at her.

"Do you think, with everything that you've just said, you can forgive yourself?" One of his hands came round to cup her cheek. His thumb wiped away the tear that still lingered on her cheek.

She smiled at him and nodded, turning her face slightly to kiss his palm. Since she seemed content, he changed the subject lest she got upset again and second guess herself.

"Do you need to take the tea soon?"

"I've been taking it every day for two months. I never knew how quick you would arrive before I finished setting everything up," she pulled herself up farther so her body hovered above his, her nose now level with his so she could nuzzle the tips lightly, "I had my...sources help me out with that, but still."

Jamie allowed her to continue her ministrations, his hands resting over her hips as she settled her legs either side of his body.

"You've been waiting for me for two months?"

She planted a small, chaste kiss to his nose before pulling back and sitting astride him. She had perfectly positioned her hips over his and her hands moved slowly, rolling the skin around his neck, shoulders and chest.

"Every. Day," her eyes locked with his, "and every. Night."

He smiled up at her and grasped her hips to hold her in place.

"Every night?"

She nodded and slowly pulled her hands down his body, letting them rest just below his stomach with her forearms rested against her thighs.

Jamie glanced down between them and back at her.

"Show me."


	5. Letters V

Letters V

The next morning...

"Some say my lovers a sinful man, some say my lovers a fiend!"

When Jamie Norrington woke up that morning he was aware of two things.

One: He was sore in all the right places and well satiated.

Two: His wife was singing again.

"But to me he is the only man, who's ever been good to me!"

And as usual, she was horribly off-key.

As he rolled himself over onto his back, he couldn't help but smile to himself as he listened. Whenever they had had a chance alone together and she sang, he never held back from telling her how...unique her voice was. She instantly knew he meant awful and merely claimed that she was tone-deaf.

'I've been told I can't sing, I know,' she'd given him a playful glare, 'but just because I can't sing, doesn't mean I'll stop.'

And as he listened to her shriek out the tune, he found himself rejoicing. He'd actually missed her god awful singing.

"So I'll ride with him, I'll ride with him, I'll ride with him in the mooooorn! I'll ride with him, ride behind him, I'll ride with him right or wrong!"

He sat himself up and looked about. At some point whilst he was asleep, she'd neatly folded and tucked their clothes atop of the chest at the bottom. His trousers were on top.

He pulled his trousers on and quickly made his way out of the room and towards the sound of her voice.

"He says: "Bess, one day I'll marry you

And I'll take you to Paris or Rome

And we'll have some babies, one or two

I'll build you a beautiful home."

Jamie stood by the half-open door and peeked in. He wasn't surprised to find her in the large tin tub, happily scrubbing away at her arms. Her eyes were tightly shut as she fully enjoyed herself. He leaned against the doorframe and gently pushed the door open more so that she could see him if she looked. But she didn't. She just carried on singing and scrubbing.

"He says: "Just this one last job, Bess

The yellow gold will be mine

And then we will be gone in the morn, Bess

To live out the rest of our lives.

So I'll ride with him, I'll ride with him

I'll ride with him in the moooorn

I'll ride with him, ride behind him

I'll ride with him right or wroooong!

And I know my father would skin him alive

If he knew his intentions for me,

But he can't see the good man inside

And how much he looks after me

Ooooooh, I know he isn't an angel

If there's trouble, he's not far behind

But he has a heart of the purest gold

Rarest I'm ever to find

So I'll ride with him, I'll ride with him

I'll ride with him in the moooooorn

I'll ride with him, ride behind him

I'll ride with him right or wrooooong.

Perhaps I'm just a foolish lass

But God can help me above

For my wanting heart loves a wanted man

I'll live and die for my outlawed loooooove."

As soon as the last note died out, Jamie brought his hands up and gave her a slow clap. As soon as the sound emitted around the room, her eyes shot open and she actually jumped. She looked at Jamie and suddenly, began to laugh.

"Jamie! You frightened the life out of me!"

He walked forward with a smug smirk on his face. As he knelt by the tub, he indicated it to her, surprised that she hadn't reached out to touch him yet. She merely smirked herself and leaned backward to playfully lift her legs and wiggle her wet toes at him.

"We have the means to bathe now," she said gleefully and continued to scrub at her arms. Jamie was curious about something. Back on the ship, there'd never really been that big a chance to bathe and she'd make a point every day that the only things she loved more than Jamie was the hot food and baths she missed.

"How many times have you bathed since getting here?" His hand came out and caught her ankle. He guided it down and settled her foot on his shoulder as he placed a tender kiss on her leg.

But he stopped when he caught her blush and she avoided his eye contact.

"Abigail...have you been bathing EVERY day?!" He laughed as she pouted, "My gosh, I may have saved a real-life mermaid!"

She couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face as she playfully sprinkled some water at him from her fingertips.

"Shush, I really needed to get clean," she tried to defend herself, "Almost a year on a pirate ship, Jamie. I had barnacles-a lot of barnacles to clean off."

He laughed at her before his hand moved down, along her calf, over her knee and down towards her thigh.

"Need a hand?" He pressed another kiss against her leg as his fingers dipped into the water, still stroking her thigh.

Her eyes flared briefly, but she looked down at the water with a teasing smile. His hand left her thigh to draw playful circles on the surface of the water, dancing in between her legs.

"I mean... I'm sure I've missed some places...but I don't think there's room for two," she pouted sadly and placed the sole of her foot against his shoulder, gently pushing him away, "you might have to wait your turn, Commodore-"

She barely had time to register the hand coming towards her before she was splashed in the face. She spluttered and shook her head and went to glare at him.

"JAMIE!" She shrieked out as he did it again, the smirk on his face positively wicked. Her foot instinctively came out, but he stood up and tried to pull her feet first through the bath.

"You scoundrel!" She reached into the bathwater herself and threw a handful directly at him.

"You wound me, madam!"

He quickly let go of her leg, diving and grabbing at her hands as she tried to get more water to splash him. She squealed in protest when he pulled her forward but enjoyed the sensation as his mouth connected with hers and his beard scratched at her face.

God, she'd missed him and that beard.

His hands released hers but he didn't break the kiss. Instead, his hands moved out and cupped the side of her head, holding her in place as they lost themselves in the kiss.

Abigail's hands came out and since he was standing literally over the tub, her hands reached for his waist. Only then did he break the kiss.

"Careful, these are my only pair of trousers I have and since I plan to walk about today, it will do me no good to have sodden trousers," he gave her a few more brief pecks, before just leaning over the tub and looking at her.

Her hands came to rest against the sides of the tub.

"Would you get me a towel, please," she turned her head to place a kiss against his palm, "I'm beginning to prune and my fun was spoiled."

The soft chuckled escaped his lips and he kissed her quickly one last time, before letting go, kneeling back down and moving around. He unshuffled the towels by the side of the tub.

He heard her move about and looked back as she unabashedly stood up, her arms held up at her sides.

"Would you wrap me, please good sir?" She looked down at him and he couldn't help but smile.

"I can do better than that, Madam, " he held the towel between both hands and reached forward, grabbing her thigh between the fabric, "I can help you get dry."

"What a lucky woman I am to have such a perfect gentleman," she let her arms fall to her side as her hands lovingly tangled in his messy hair, "and I mean that. Jamie Norrington, the perfect gentleman."

"Only where it counts," he leaned forward as he continued to gently rub circles over her and placed a chaste kiss against her thigh, "and sometimes madam, it helps to not be a perfect gentleman."

She shut her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of him worshipping her. Each place he rubbed, he placed chaste kisses and sometimes had a little nibble. When he had stood and his mouth finally found her neck, she grabbed his face in her hands and guided her to kiss him.

His hands went around her waist and pulled her flush against him, and she felt how hard he was beneath the material of his trousers. She pulled her mouth away reluctantly when she remembered something.

"And you don't have to worry about your trousers. I bought some clothes I thought you'd need, but...well, I thought you'd want to go on your own and pick some things so I didn't go mad. Promise."

He smiled down at her and let his hands wander down to her bottom, enjoying the blush that spread of her cheeks. Her face felt like it was on fire.

"You knew what size to get?"

"Aye', I'm very familiar with your body," she allowed her hands to drop to his chest and gently raked her nails over his pectoral muscles, "they had an assistant in the shop and I just said 'the same size as him'. Tall, strong...but definitely not as handsome."

He smirked against her lips, but wouldn't quite kiss her.

"Did you actually say that?"

She shook her head and stood up on her tiptoes quickly to place a quick kiss against him before pulling away.

"Come on you, we've got stuff to do," she pushed him away and stuck him with a firm glare, "and I MEAN, around the house. First things first: We have a PROPER breakfast."

"I think you'll find, the first thing you do is get some clothes on," he smirked down at her but resisted touching her, "unless it's a very special breakfast I'm eating?"

The blush on her cheeks spread further down and she pouted.

"Don't be rude," she suddenly had a twinkle in her eye as she stepped out of the tub and away from his reach, "but...maybe after dinner. For dessert."

She walked away hurriedly, clutching the towel to her front as she bared her backside to him. She knew she was tempting him and she just couldn't help it.

She just managed to get inside and get the door to the bedroom closed before he came knocking.

"Oh, no you don't!" She turned the key in the lock and laughed, "You will GO and get washed young man and THEN you will get dressed."

She could practically hear him growling through the wood.

"I thought you were too tired from your last punishment?!" She heard him grumble and tried to hide her snort.

Sore? Yes. Tired? Not a chance.

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Au: In which I say hello and that song is by the Wonderful Karliene (you can find her on youtube) and it's 'Song for an Outlawed Love' from her album 'The Highwayman'


	6. Letters VI

Letters VI

Abigail had successfully finished dressing, though she did forego her bloomers. She had a feeling, with the way they were unable to keep their hands off of one another, she wouldn't be needing them today.

She decided that the next course of action was to go and check her husband wasn't waiting outside the door for her, quietly ready to pounce. The thought did thrill her slightly and she did feel a smidgeon of disappointment when she slowly opened the door and he wasn't there.

Still, at least she could hear him cheerfully whistling the song she had been singing earlier and the notes were coming from the bathroom.

Before he'd had a chance to attack the door again, she'd thrown out some clean clothes she'd brought him and hurriedly locked it behind her. He'd only slapped his palm in frustration against the wood once, she noted.

She eagerly went to the bathroom door and pushed it open all the way, smiling at the sight that greeted her. Jamie was standing in front of the mirror, finishing off tidying his hair for her but he was wearing his new clothes AND had even cleaned his shoes. Abigail felt herself swoon a little. He had looked rather bedraggled the night before (though she mostly blamed herself for that) and today, it was as if he was a brand new man. And yet...still the Jamie she had fallen in love with.

He caught her approach in the reflection and gave her a warm, dazzling smile.

"I see you've acquired clothing," he gave her a wink in the mirror and her legs turned to jelly when he said, "though I still think it'd look much better on the floor with mine."

She tried to ignore her blush and his teasing tone, though knew he'd win out eventually (and she'd let him).

"Just thought I'd see you were actually getting ready," she moved to pick up the dirty clothes he'd placed over the side of the tub, along with the linen when she caught sight of what he had ready in his hand. The small razor she'd bought along with all the necessities, but she had buried it at the bottom of the accessory bucket and hoped he'd never find it...he had.

She marched straight over to him, just as his free hand began to pat down and check his overgrowing beard and held his wrist that clutched the blade firmly in her hand.

He turned to her with a bemused expression and she merely shook her head and said, "Not a chance. You'll leave that beard alone."

"I have to look presentable!" He protested but she wouldn't take any other arguments.

"If you shave I'll...I'll-"

"Yes?" He couldn't hide his amusement as she blustered but received a small whack on his shoulder for his grin.

"I'll think of something that you don't like. And I'll do it!"

He sighed half-heartedly and looked back at himself in the mirror. It wasn't that he really cared, but surely if he went out and looked for work, no one would hire him with a dirty, out of control beard?

"Then what do you suggest I do?"

Abigail looked down at the razor and then, at the bucket where he had plucked it from. She observed the scissors and comb she had gotten and couldn't help but smile when she looked back up at him.

"I suggest, you hold very still."

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Jamie trusted Abigail with his life. He trusted her with a sword, to have his back in a fight. He trusted her to help him time and time again, without him ever asking. But as she cautiously and carefully trimmed his beard for him with a comb and a pair of scissors, he wondered if he should be trusting her appearance etiquette.

She'd brought a chair up for him to sit on and had given him a small speech about how beards were 'very in' at the moment and even if they weren't, not many people cared. He would have stopped her, but she'd held the scissors up with such glee and snipped them twice that he was afraid to.

Still, she had been gentle and talked with him and even allowed him to pull her into his lap for a 'closer angle', though she felt that was only to steal one or two kisses whenever she put the scissors down to have a look at her work.

Jamie did enjoy watching her concentrate, gaining immense pleasure from the way she casually stuck her tongue out to the side and gently blew on places where she'd been cutting away.

When he'd asked her if she knew of any jobs that were hiring in the town or local farmhouses, she continued to carefully cut and trim at his beard as she explained that he wouldn't need to do that. Ever.

"You don't have to go out and work. No more jobs on ships with unscrupulous bosses. Plus, it will be one less worry for me if you're actually on land."

"Oh? And what do you expect me to do?"

She lent back again to check his sideburns and smiled at her own plan.

"Well...I will need someone to help me handle all the paperwork from my father's business. And when we go to visit. I'll need a man there to...you know...look presentable. But look as rough as you want, people will think you're my bodyguard."

He thought about this for a moment, listing his job requirements mentally in his head before he realised what she was asking of him.

"Are you asking me to be your secretary?"

"Personal Assistant...yes. And when I DON'T need you, you can put your feet up by the roaring fire and read. And I can make you as many sponge cakes as you want? How does that sound?"

Five years ago, had someone asked this of him, he would have scoffed at the very idea and turned away. But...it did sound very appealing.

"You know, it must be my old age because I can find that I'm ok with it."

"You are not old, you are young and virile," she paused in her cutting to swoop down and place a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth, "Plus, we'll need to get our own small boat."

Jamie couldn't help but arch his brow at her, wondering if she was considering starting her own naval or pirating company.

"Fishing, Jamie. You've got to come fishing with me," she quickly began to check things off in her head as she went on, "Supplies. Gardening mostly. Some basic tools for the repair. And we can get some animals."

"Oh? Do tell?" His hands slipped to her waist to hold onto her, though she didn't seem to notice.

"Chickens. Ducks. Maybe some pigs...we can even get a goat and a cow...called...Buttercup!"

Jamie laughed at the excited way she said that, though her body still remained calm enough to finish up trimming him.

"You've had a lot of time here to think about this."

"Oh yes. But I didn't want to do it without you," she pulled away the comb and scissors again and this time, kissed him slowly and tenderly, enjoying the way his lips moved against hers. She let out a contented sigh when she pulled away and saw the amused and knowing twinkle in his eye.

"Is that because it would have been a lot of work and you'd like me to carry everything?"

Abigail brushed his beard off one last time and hopped off his lap before answering.

"Possibly. Probably," she bent down and quickly grabbed the small brush to clean off the hairs that had fallen between them, "well...maybe."

Finally finished with him, she allowed Jamie to stand and look at himself in the mirror. His beard was neat, clean and not as wild and out of control as it had been when he first arrived. She had actually made him look presentable and yet very 'rough' when he scowled. Yes, he thought, he'd make a good bodyguard when needed.

He turned back to her and opened his arms out for inspection.

"Well? Is my lady pleased?"

"There's my handsome husband," she put everything neatly back in the bucket and tucked it back against the tub before turning an accusing finger on him, "And DON'T shave anymore off. Or you'll have to answer to me."

Jamie's curiosity got the better of him. He'd never actually considered that she may actually like his beard.

"Why exactly should I keep it?"

Abigail's eyes glittered with that fiery passion Jamie knew too well and she took a step closer to him.

"Jamie, did I NEVER tell you?" She sounded scandalised that he didn't know her feelings towards it.

As their bodies pressed against one another, he dipped his head to the side and whispered into her ear, "Dare I say...you LIKE the beard?"

"Oh yes. It...elicits certain responses from me, haven't you noticed?"

Her hands grabbed his wrists and didn't let go of him as she pulled and moved his hands up and over her body. He placed his cheek against her neck and purposefully began to rub his fuzz against her. She let out a small moan and he enquired farther.

"Oh? Do tell."

A little breathless, she moved his hands until they rested over her clothed breasts and held them there.

"Yes, I find I can become quite a different woman in these situations."

He didn't let her say anything else. Instead, his hands moved quickly and picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

Despite her screaming protests, he loved listening to the sound of her squealing laughter, especially when he smacked her across her clothed backside.

He didn't even shut the bedroom door behind them before he threw her down on the bed and quickly joined her.

He kissed her senseless and began leaving playful little nips along her skin, rubbing his beard against her as he went.

His lips paused at her ear as she grabbed at his shoulders for support.

"Surely, you love me only for my beard?"

"Don't be silly...I mean, it does have its benefits and pleasant side effects."

He pulled away to look down at her, his curiosity getting the better of him again.

"I'm listening."

Despite her earlier boldness, a faint blush crept over her cheeks and she hesitated before licking her lips to calm her nerves.

"I missed the rash it left me. I'd be doing a chore the next day and when I happened to change or looked in a window or mirror, there'd be this mark...On the side of my face. On my neck," her fingers landed on each spot she remembered him biting her and slowly tried down lower and lower, "Under my breast...I even missed it in between my thighs."

Jamie felt his erection straining against his trousers and despite wanting to ravage her senseless, he decided to help fulfil the want she'd been missing out on.

"Well, we'll have to rectify that. Right now."

Slowly, remembering where she'd placed her fingers, he nibbled, sucked and rubbed his face against her skin, enjoying the hearty moans and giggles as he went.

Abigail could only stare at the ceiling and think about what bliss she was in.

"You know, at this rate, we'll never get downstairs to eat again."

Jamie's hands had already pulled up her skirts and as he settled in between her legs, she felt his lips place a quick kiss against her hip before she heard his hungry reply, "I'm perfectly happy eating up here."

As Jamie began to kiss and tease her, she hid her red and hot face in her hands and groaned, "You're going to be the death of me."

Not that she really minded.


	7. Letters VII

Letters VII

Abigail and Jamie sat at their kitchen table.

THEIR table.

She could have squealed out loud and joyfully when she thought of it. He hadn't rejected her or the home she had picked out. He had talked with her about her plans and input his own ideas for what he wanted for his own personal space and projects.

As her foot lazily rested against his calf under the table, she felt nothing could disrupt this peaceful moment. She spooned another mouthful of porridge and honey onto her spoon and ate it with relish.

Bliss.

"You said that you stayed in a few places and worked odd jobs. What did you do?"

Oh, she was so glad she'd already swallowed her food. If he'd asked her that a few seconds earlier, he would have ended up with the contents of her spoon all over his face.

She slowly put the spoon down in the bowl again and stared pointedly at his own bowl, desperately trying to think of a change of subject. But as her eyes met his and he arched his brow, she knew she couldn't lie to him. She also knew he'd see straight through it.

"Don't be mad, please," she winced at her choice of words but took a quick, calming breath when his stare didn't harden. He just looked very, VERY concerned.

"What?"

"There was a...few barmaid jobs going in certain establishments. I never stayed more than a week, I just needed enough to stay somewhere for a night or two, whilst my father's papers were sorted."

Jamie knew what establishments she must have gone to. He thought of the 'Twelve Daggers' tavern and remembered the sort of things that had happened there during his downward spiral into disgraceful wretch.

He also remembered the treatment some of the barmaids had endured.

"Did anything happen?" He reached his free hand to hers, squeezing it and hoping she hadn't been hurt or scarred too badly by her experiences.

On the contrary, when she talked he saw the strange gleam in her eyes.

"One or two things...but I dealt with them."

"Oh?"

She smiled sweetly at him, pleased he wasn't mad.

"Let's just say, there's an unsavory gentleman somewhere, nursing a very nasty wound on his upper thigh, caused by a very sharp piece of cutlery. Taught him some good manners and to keep his wandering hands to himself."

Jamie couldn't help but smile and pulled her hand across to press a tender kiss against her palm.

"That's my wife."

Finishing their porridges in contented silence, Jamie only let her go when she moved away to place the bowls in the sink. As she washed and dried them, he looked around him again and wondered just how much money she'd already spent and what had already been here.

"Everything is new?"

"Yes. Well...the stuff that was in here originally was definitely too old. So, I went on a small spree. BUT I didn't want anything that I didn't know how to use myself. Or that I'd need help using."

As he stood up and admired the new furniture, his eyes landed on the stove again and he couldn't help but ask, "You know how to cook?"

In all honesty, he'd never seen her cook NOR had she declared that she could cook. But she still turned around as she dried her hands on the dishcloth and put on an affronted air.

"I'm not a complete town girl you know! When I WASN'T sailing on the seas with a bunch of ravenous sailors, I was at home with my nanny and the maids. And I wanted to help and I did. That's right, Jamie Norrington. I can cook. Clean. Sew. Fish. Fight," she took a step closer to him each time she listed her talents until she was pressed up against him, "amongst other things."

He let her push him back against the stove and smiled down at her.

"Like what?"

Abigail's hands that had been toying with his tunic, suddenly disappeared as she let go of him and she seemed to think on his question.

"Well...I'm very good at apologising."

"You don't have to say sorry anymore-" Jamie shut his mouth quickly when he felt her hands move between them and tug at the laces and bindings of his trousers.

He watched her as she fluttered her eyelashes innocently at him before her hands slipped inside his trousers.

"Who said anything about speaking?"

As she slowly began to play with him again, he leaned forward, intending to kiss her, but she pulled away and shook her head at him, a cheeky smile on her face.

"No... I'm apologising to you. You don't do anything."

Jamie could only grip the stove behind him when she dropped to her knees before him and he couldn't stop his loud moan as she began to apologise to him as earnestly as her mouth knew how.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As Jamie sat in the old armchair, Abigail content in his lap and his arms, he wondered aloud all the chores and things they had to do together.

"It's going to be difficult you know. Lots of Manual labor. If we sleep in, we might not get everything done. No maids, no help-"

"WELL...technically, the Cutter's boy down the street will be giving us a hand when we get the animals in and start making this place presentable and habitable...but you're right. We'll be alone...together though."

As his lips found her jawline again, he couldn't help but praise her.

"You really have thought of everything."

"Not necessarily...I still haven't picked out the names for the animals," she leaned in closer to him as he began to playfully nip at her neck, though felt him pause when he noticed something amiss.

"I've just realised...your necklace is gone."

"Oh no, not gone. I put it someplace where we could use the protection."

He pulled away when she signaled for him to look and she pointed to the doorway. His eyes were lost for a second as he searched the wood, but then he saw it.

Above the doorway, nailed there for their protection, Tia Dalma's necklace sat and looked over them.

Silently, he thanked her again for all she had given them, even though he had never met her. He was thankful for a lot. For Tia Dalma. For Abigail. For those letters, she had sent him. Whilst he had been angry, she had given him something else he hadn't realised: hope.

And now she was in his arms and he wasn't about to let her go anytime soon. Especially when they had a lot more living to do. Together.

This was just the start.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's address: Waddup. Just letting you guys know that whilst I have finished with this particular section of 'Letters', there will be more...I won't say when hopefully soon. Maybe. We'll see, I've still got the Hobbit to work on huhuhuhu


	8. Forgiveness

Forgiveness

Abigail was working hard on the supper when the front door slamming startled her so, she upset the goose in its tin and dropped parsnips on the floor.

"Oh, bollocks-sorry, I know, I know!" She didn't turn around, knowing the disproving look her husband would be giving her, "I'll watch my language when I clean this mess up. How was Town?"

She quickly bent down and scooped the chopped parsnips into her skirt, holding it up and intending to wash them again before she cooked them. She'd already put them back into the sink when she realised he hadn't answered her.

"Jamie?" She looked over her shoulder and saw him standing in the living room, but she quickly turned back to her task of washing the vegetables, "I asked how the Town was. Did it go well?"

He seemed to hesitate before he spoke, but when she turned to look at him again, he told her in terse tones, "it went fine."

She didn't like the way he said that as if he'd forced himself to tell her. Quickly dropping the vegetables in the sink, turning herself around, and drying her hands on her skirt, she looked at him properly.

His face was hard and he was turned to the side, purposefully not looking at her. Something was wrong.

"Jamie," she said softly and walked around the table towards him, "Darling, did something happen-"

"It's nothing."

She stopped dead at the way he said that to her. The harsh bite in his words.

Whilst she was still concerned for him, she felt her anger rise and she allowed it to get the better of her. She looked at his jacket that she'd placed over his chair, ready to sew and repair for him. She plucked it off the back and dropped it on the floor, hard enough for him to turn and look at her.

"Well then, since it's nothing, I suppose you can sew and alter your own clothes then. And I take it you don't want dinner tonight?"

Jamie did not answer her but his eyes spoke volumes. He was angry about something but he already seemed to regret the way he was talking to her. Still, he was like her: stubborn to the core.

Abigail knew she would have to be the one to get him to talk and decrease the growing tension in the room. She took a deep, calming breath and carried on walking towards him.

"Jamie," she made her voice as gentle as she could, "please. What's wrong?"

He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, but still said nothing. She could see him fighting a battle and she wanted nothing more than to help him out of it. Her hand came to rest against the lapel of his jacket and he opened his eyes to look down at her.

"Talk to me-"

He took a step back.

"I told you, it's nothing," the same terse, cool tones came out of his mouth and she felt her anger rise again.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," she moved towards him and forced him to look at her, grabbing his jacket in her hands, "it's not! It's bothering you and I want to help!"

He moved his hands up to her wrists and despite his obvious annoyance and frustration, he was still gentle when he pulled her hands off of him.

"I don't want-"

"Jamie, PLEASE," Abigail could feel her fears beginning to grow, terrified that something was genuinely wrong with him, "Look at me. Look at me, love."

But he didn't. He turned away from her and a moment later, he was walking towards the door.

Abigail followed.

"Where are you going?" Her voice shook, not knowing what to do to get him to stop.

"Out."

She stopped when he opened the door and left without a backward glance.

"Jamie!" She called out to him but knew it was useless. He was gone. She didn't know where or why she just knew he was upset by something or someone. She truly hoped it wasn't her.

XXXXXXXX Jamie XXXXXXXXX

Former Commodore and Admiral James Norrington, son of Lawrence Norrington and Anne Margaret Norrington (formerly Smith), was totally and irreversibly shitfaced.

He knew he made a mistake as soon as he had drunk the first bottle of Rum. He could have stopped, but another bottle later and the numbness began to return. The pain and humiliation. Those feelings that he kept inside of him that were threatening to spill out were locked up. The thoughts in the back of his mind, dulled by the drink.

But he was not at all pleased. Especially when he was having such trouble navigating his way up the garden path towards his home and his wife. He remembered leaving her upset and hoped she'd be alright, but he also had a feeling that once she caught sight of him, she'd be livid.

But then, he didn't know. He couldn't really concentrate, especially when the path below him seemed to move and shift when he looked down at his feet.

"Now, you stop that," he told it in 'no-nonsense' tones, "you need to let me get to my wife. I need to get in this door and you will stop that. Right now."

The path didn't seem to listen to him, so he stopped looking at it. He managed to navigate his way along the undulating stonework and finally, laid his hands on the door. He found the handle after the third try and carefully pushed open the door.

The house was lit by candlelight and it looked so soft and inviting. And yet, it did spin a little bit when he stepped through and tried to shut the door behind him. His hands were on the wood as he shut his eyes and took deep, steady breaths.

"I don't appreciate all this moving about. Go easy on me, old girl."

"Jamie?"

He slowly turned around as the voice called to him. He managed to poke his head around the stairs and saw Abigail, seated at the kitchen table and wrapped in her long shawl.

She climbed out of her seat at the sight of him, relief evident on her face as well as in her voice.

"Are you all right?"

"Right as rain," he took a step towards her, trying to maintain a quiet and dignified air.

"Jamie, I've been worried sick-"

He stumbled forward and just managed to catch himself in time before he crashed to the floor. He pushed himself back up and looked at her. Her relief and worry had been replaced with shock and anger.

"Have you been drinking?" She demanded, looking him up and down and taking in his disheveled appearance.

"I have indeed. Have you?" He didn't think that was a silly question. He thought it was a very clever one.

But Abigail did not answer him. She just stared and stared at him until she shook her head and looked away.

"You know what," he heard a strange wobble in her voice and wondered what could possibly be making her upset, "I'm tired. I'm going to bed. I don't care what you do tonight just...try not to make a mess."

She walked past him without a glance or another word and Jamie would have reached out and stopped her, but she was so fast and everything span when he turned.

Abigail was already at the top of the stairs when she heard him. She turned back to see him at the bottom, one hand on the wall and one on the banister and she knew what he intended to do.

"No. Jamie, no."

He looked up at her but squinted as if the small gesture hurt his head.

"Don't you DARE think about coming to bed in your state!"

Jamie shook his head and tried to climb up one step.

"It's my bed just as much as yours-"

"NOT WHEN YOU'RE IN THIS STATE!"

Jamie shook his head again, disbelieving that his wife was not only yelling at him but preventing him from going to bed.

"I'm your husband, you can't-"

He didn't see the slipper until it was too late. It hit him, right in his forehead and he reeled back in surprise, clutching the place of impact. He stumbled and crashed onto his backside at the bottom of the stairs. He was so busy trying to gather his wits, that when she shouted at him again, it actually startled him.

"AND I'M YOUR WIFE AND IF YOU DARE TRY TO GET INTO BED WITH ME TONIGHT, I'LL BOIL YOUR BOLLOCKS!"

He heard her storm away and a moment later, their bedroom door slammed shut. He was also sure he heard the lock click but was scrambling unsteadily to his feet to look around him.

He found the offending slipper a few feet away and plucked it up. They were her favourite. So small. Soft and clean.

He held it close to his chest.

He'd messed up. He'd done something terrible and he knew it and now...he was alone downstairs, whilst his wife had barred him from their room.

He slowly made his way over to his comfy armchair and sunk down in it, knowing he was going to be there for the night. He didn't know he could feel any worse than he already did, but then he heard the faint, muffled sound from upstairs. Abigail was crying.

He clutched her slipper tighter against him and shut his eyes.

His last thoughts before he slipped into a troubled sleep were not happy ones.

_'Bollocks.'_

The Next Morning...

The loud bangs and clanging of metal and ceramic against one another roused Jamie from his sleep. He instantly wished for the sweet release of death when his head pounded as though enemies couldn't find their drums of war and were beating his brain around instead.

His mouth tasted vile as usual and his body ached. The sounds continued and before he could rouse himself properly, he tried to discern exactly what had happened the night before. He remembered leaving his house. Turning back quietly to get some money and leaving again unseen. Going to the alehouse and downing not one, but two bottles of their finest. Falling over in the street. Getting home, somehow. Opening the door to find Abigail-

"Oh god," he groaned and rubbed at his face with his hand. The loud noises ceased for a moment but continued after Jamie rubbed at his sore head, perhaps louder and more vicious now. He pushed himself forward, opened his eyes, and looked around him. Everything was far too bright and his throat was far too dry. He needed water, quickly.

He turned towards the kitchen where the noises were coming from and froze. Abigail was bustling about the place, walking back and forth between the cupboards and countertop and table and Jamie remembered exactly what he had done. He'd remembered her anger and sadness, but his blurred mind had ignored them. He also remembered what a great arm she had with her slipper and when he slowly stood up, he couldn't help but stay behind the chair. Just encase he needed to duck behind it quickly.

"Abigail," he called to her softly and she stopped what she was doing and slowly turned to him. Jamie's heart seized up with what he saw. She was unsmiling and her warm eyes were hard and cold, but what broke him was the tell-tale red swelling under her eyes. She'd been up all night crying and it was because of him.

"I'm sorry."

He may have been sincere when he said those two small words, but Abigail didn't seem moved by them. She turned slowly back to the table and placed her hands on the chair in front of her. Whilst he could no longer see her face, he could see her anger and restraint in the whites of her knuckles as she gripped the chair.

She surprised him when instead of immediately arguing or yelling at him, she asked in calm tones, "have you eaten?"

Jamie shook his head and then remembering that she couldn't see him, stated that he had not.

"Come here and sit down."

Cautiously, he approached her, but before he could put his hands on her, she moved swiftly away and back to the stove, where she began to fervently cook something. Seeing that she wasn't going to engage him in a conversation anytime soon, he took his seat at the table and watched her.

He smelt the eggs she was cooking and it made him nauseous, but he daren't say anything out loud, considering she was actually cooking for him. He could see the tension in her back and shoulders and longed to touch her and smooth out the lines he had caused, but knew that wouldn't be received well.

Once she had finished, she heaped a large helping of eggs and toast on his plate and placed it in front of him. She repeated the same for herself and sat across from him, but when Jamie pulled a face at the eggs, his stomach slightly rolling at the thought of eating anything, she barked at him, "EAT IT," and that alone made him fearful enough to devour what was on the plate, slowly. He managed to keep everything down as they ate in awkward, uncomfortable silence, Jamie looking at Abigail and trying to make eye contact with her. But she was purposefully looking at her plate and avoiding even glancing across at him. He couldn't blame her.

Surprisingly, even though she was eating at her normal speed, Jamie managed to finish before her (probably because he forced down the last three large mouthfuls) and sat in his chair, his hands flat on the table. He had to say something. He couldn't let it go on anymore.

Slowly, he reached across the table and gently placed his hand over the one she had resting against the wooden surface. She stopped trying to eat and he watched her look down at their joined hands.

"Please," he didn't care how desperate he sounded when he begged, "how can I make this right?"

Finally, her eyes met his, and whilst she still seemed to be glaring, at least she was looking at him.

"You really want to make this right? Go back in time and stop yourself from picking up that bottle."

Jamie didn't let her go, even when she tried to pull away from him.

"I don't...Abigail. Please."

Dropping her spoon with her other hand and balling it into a fist, she looked just as desperate as he felt.

"Why? Jamie, after all this time, why?"

"I was upset with you."

He knew those were the wrong choice of words as soon as he saw the flicker of hurt in her eyes.

"I'm sorry I upset you. But you went out and picked up the alcohol. You had a choice and you failed. Jamie...you can't do that every time we have an argument."

"I know-"

Slamming her fist down on the table, she cut him off and pulled her other hand away from his.

"You don't! Jamie...I've seen men and women older than you ruin what they have left of their life because of their addiction to the stuff," her hand covered her eyes too late as he saw the fresh tears begin to fall, "because they wanted to numb their feelings and stop the pain. I may be your wife, but so help me if you don't stop being a bloody pillock and talk to me about how you're feeling I'm going to sod off again."

Her hand came away and let angry tears fall down and Jamie paled at the thought of her leaving him again, this time out of anger.

"I don't-I've never-" he stumbled over his words, unsure how to express himself the way she was asking him to.

She slowly reached back over and took his hand in both of hers, her grip a lot more desperate than he had been and her tone, twice as pleading.

"What happened? What happened yesterday before you came home? Tell me. Please."

Yesterday, he'd been so ashamed of what had happened, he hadn't the heart to tell her. But now, he couldn't refuse her. Not now.

"When I went to fetch the order from Harper's, I realised that...when I got there, I'd left the money owed at home. And then...it hit me. It wasn't my money. It was yours. I felt so...guilty and ashamed that I had to come back home and made an excuse that I'd left it back in another coat. I felt...ashamed for taking your money...so much less of a man because I was depending on you."

Abigail groaned and rolled her eyes.

"Jamie, we agreed-"

"We did. And I know it's petty but...I couldn't help but feel so much smaller," he looked down at their hands and his voice quietened as he confessed, "so much less of the man you fell in love with. And now I've made it worse."

When her hands slipped from him, he thought that was it. She was mad or ashamed at him and she truly saw him as less of a man now. She stood up, moved her chair back and he shut his eyes when she began to walk away from the table.

But then, he opened them again when she came to stand beside him.

"Move your chair back," she asked him, her eyes a lot softer than before.

He did as she asked him and without another word, she sat down on his lap sideways and placed both her arms around his neck. She pulled him close to her and he went willingly, holding her tight against him. He was afraid she may change her mind and get up again.

"I'm still mad at you. And you smell terrible," she sighed heavily against him but didn't move away, in fact, she seemed to tighten her own hold on him.

Jamie nuzzled his face into her neck, smelling her clean skin. He felt so bad, he almost welled up.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled against her neck and repeated himself until she did pull away. Her hands cupped either side of his face and she looked down at him, her eyes full of love and sadness.

"You are Jamie Norrington and you are my husband. The only time you are less of a man is when you drink yourself into a state to avoid talking to me about how you feel. Talk to me from now on, all right?"

He nodded at her and shifted slightly, tilting his head up and intending to break the distance between their lips but she recoiled and held him firmly, shaking her head.

"No, sorry...you smell terrible," she moved off of him and gestured her head to the stairs, "come on, up to bathe, brush your teeth and get in better clothes."

Jamie didn't argue. He couldn't really see any point when he knew she was right. Even he knew he smelt awful.

A short while later...

When Jamie stood at the top of the stairs, he did one last check on himself: clean hair? Neatly trimmed and clean beard? Fresh breath? All check. His clothes clung to his still wet skin, but he knew he would dry off in the warm breeze outside.

He made his way down the stairs and came to stand in the living room, finding Abigail still in the kitchen having cleared and cleaned everything. She was leaning against the countertop and idly popping grapes into her mouth when he approached her. She watched him with a cool, calm expression, and whilst she may have still been mad at him, he knew that she seemed to have simmered down quite a bit.

"Good morning," he offered her cautiously, hoping to start the day off again. She seemed to pick up on his attempt and nodded her head politely, still popping another grape into her mouth.

"Mornin' to you."

He decided to be brave and took another step towards her.

"May I kiss you now?"

Abigail seemed to hesitate for a moment, looking him up and down and seeing if he was in a fit state. Satisfied that he was, she nodded at him, still not smiling.

He broke the distance between them and placed both his hands either side of her neck, his thumbs brushing against her jaw.

She tilted her head up towards him and when he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers, he was glad when she responded and tenderly kissed him back. All too soon, she pulled away and popped another grape into her mouth.

"Are you still mad at me?" He knew it was a dumb question, but he needed to know how much trouble he was still in.

"Yes. But I won't hold it against you for long," she reached behind her and wordlessly held out a bucket for him to take, "especially when we have work to do today."

"Oh, you're still wanting to do that?" He took the bucket and grimaced, washing the windows and outside walls not really high on his list of things he wanted to do.

"Yes, you don't get leniency because you're hungover."

Jamie sighed and tested the waters a bit more, shrugging his shoulders as he cracked, "well...at least my bollocks won't be boiled."

She turned away from him, but it was no use. He'd seen the little smile he'd manage to get out of her. And despite the bad start to the day, he knew he would keep trying to make her smile. Make her happy. But most of all, try to make it up to her. She would forgive him, but he'd still put the effort in. She was worth it.


	9. What the heart wants

What the heart wants

The day was almost perfect as Abigail wandered out through the busy market stalls, greeting those as she went. Samuel was trying to eagerly sell her another cod, holding it up proudly as she walked by. She reminded him that she and Jamie had only just polished off the one from the night before, but did commend him on another spectacular catch.

Esther's stall was (as usual) covered in brightly dyed fabrics and garments that made Abigail want to stop and buy everything to decorate her house. And (as usual) she managed to restrain herself and walked on by, already pleased with today's purchases. She'd gotten all the food she needed and finding that she had extra, decided to treat Jamie with a small surprise. As she browsed the last few stalls, thinking carefully, she wondered what she could possibly give him today to top the Sugar Plums she'd surprised him with the other day.

Lemon Peels? She could make him better ones than they sold at the market. Rose and Violet Petals? Too sweet. Licorice root? She'd end up eating the majority of it.

As she deliberated on what to get him, a loud voice suddenly caught her attention, followed by the screams of a small child.

"ANGELIQUE! YOU DAMNED CHILD!"

No one else seemed to notice or really care, but Abigail looked around her and hurried out of the bustling market, heading towards the shouts and cries. Whatever was happening, it wasn't good.

As she came between two houses and into an empty lane, she saw something that made her blood boil. A man she had never seen before had a child in one hand and was hitting her repeatedly with something. The child cried out at every strike and desperately tried to wriggle free from his grip.

It was only when Abigail dropped her basket in shock did she see that he was using a thick leather belt to strike the child.

Without another thought, she ran at them and screamed as loud as she could.

"STOP. STOP IT! LEAVE HER!"

The man seemed to pay no mind to her protests and carried on hitting the child, though the small creature looked up at Abigail and reached out towards her.

"STOP IT!"

Abigail wasn't about to let her down.

Not caring for her own safety, she quickly got in between the two and wrenched the man's grasp off of the child. She shoved him away and quickly turned back to the girl.

"Go, quickly," she gently pushed her along and turned back to the man as he stumbled back up from where he had fallen.

"Out of my way-"

"Don't you DARE think of raising that thing to me!" Abigail held her arms out either side and began to walk around with him, blocking him off from escaping and going after the girl, "I will get the authorities on you if you so much as leave a dirty mark on me!"

The man stopped in his tracks and lowered the hand his belt was in. Abigail noticed his slightly drunken state, though she had a feeling that wasn't necessarily all to blame for what he had been doing.

He sneered at Abigail and took a step towards her, trying to appear threatening and dominating, but Abigail merely jutted her chin out at him and stood her ground.

"How dare you intervene between a man and his property!" He spat out at her and Abigail wanted to reach up and wipe her face, but her anger wasn't letting her head clear long enough to do the sensible thing.

"It's my place to intervene when I see a man hitting a child with a belt as if she were no more than an animal!"

"She didn't complete her duties. And now, thanks to you, she's run off," he took another step towards her and she could smell the whiskey on his breath, "I should be the one to call the authorities on you. But I've wasted enough time."

He turned away from her and began to swagger off, but not before turning and yelling one last time, "ANGELIQUE, IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU, YOU'LL BE HOME WITHIN THE HOUR!"

Abigail watched him leave and it was only when he was out of sight and hearing did she finally allow her real emotions to break through her surprisingly calm composure. She took deep, shuddering breaths and the adrenaline pumping through her body now seemed to be very evident. Despite the tough exterior, she had felt terrified at the confrontation, not knowing what he had been capable of. But at least the girl had ran as Abigail had instructed her to.

Turning back to her basket and looking about her, she found she was very much alone. She was thankful she'd had the bundles of perishables wrapped up and put everything back as carefully as she could. She was thinking of walking home when it dawned on her that the girl would not have had time to go far. She was still in earshot, that's why the man had yelled.

As she walked past the houses, she turned into another hidden walkway, much smaller than the other. It led to a small warehouse that was littered with old and new barrels.

Abigail remembered fondly playing hide and seek with her brother. She remembered the shipyards and old warehouses they would explore and how when it was her turn to hide, she'd find the smallest places she could fit in. Most of the times, it was a barrel.

She stopped and looked around herself. Whilst there was only about fifteen, she didn't really have the time to search each one. So she had a better idea.

"Hello? It's all right, he's gone now. You can come out."

She heard a small shuffling sound to her right and saw one of the lids of the barrels was not QUITE sealed.

She went over to it, placed her basket down, and slowly took off the lid. When she peered inside, a pair of brown, scared eyes peered back at her.

"It's all right, I promise he's not here," she carefully placed the lid on the ground beside it and put one hand in towards the girl, "and I won't let him hurt you. All right?"

It was a few seconds of staring as warmly as she could at the girl and hoping she hadn't been so badly scarred from human contact from what he had done to her. Luckily, her small hand raised shakily and slowly slipped into Abigail's. She nodded shyly, letting her know she was ok.

"Right then," Abigail gently squeezed the hand in her own, "let's get you out of that barrel and somewhere safe, savvy?"

A short while later...

Jamie wasn't expecting anything strange when he came inside that day. He'd been working fruitlessly down the road where Farmer Goddet lived and he felt that it was his duty to work for his keep. He'd bartered for firewood and more painting supplies for his home and rather than spend his money, took on the odd jobs that the old farmer could no longer do.

So after a hard but fulfilling day of work, when he walked into his home, he'd expected Abigail to be there, preparing supper or cleaning away or just ready to greet him.

What he HADN'T expected was to find a small child, whom he'd never seen before, dressed in ratty, dirty clothes and sitting at his kitchen table, eating a hearty meal.

When he walked in through the door, the child looked warily at him and held tightly onto what was left on her plate, as if he had come in to take it away from her. Jamie did want to know what she was doing there, but he didn't like the look of fear she was giving him, so he decided that confused friendliness was definitely the way to go.

"Hello...Urm...I'm Jamie," he bowed his head slightly and received a small nod in return, "are-are you...a friend of Abigail's?"

The girl nodded again and Jamie had a feeling he wasn't going to find much conversation with his current companion. He quickly called around him for his wife, smiling nervously as the small child just watched him.

On cue, Abigail came in through the back door, her arms full of the clean and dry clothes she must have brought in off the line. She looked down at the little girl and gave her a small smile, before catching sight of her husband.

"Hello darling," she dumped the clothes on the countertop and walked straight over to give Jamie a warm and loving kiss, "I see you've met Angelique."

Jamie looked back over at the little girl, who still seemed very unnerved by his presence there. He nodded his head politely and smiled.

"Yes...Hello, Ms. Angelique."

"Angelique, this is my husband, Jamie," Abigail waved a hand between the two and spoke in gentle tones, "would it be all right if you say hello to him? He has had a very hard day and I think he'd appreciate it."

Angelique, still nervous and quiet as a mouse, looked directly at Jamie and said, 'Hello', before she continued to gobble up her food.

Jamie turned to his wife and she shrugged her shoulders.

"She doesn't talk much," she lowered her voice and leaned in close to her husband, "and she's starving, so I made her a giant sausage roll...might have to make some more."

"Darling," Jamie spoke in the same quiet tones and made sure to at least appear happy encase the child suddenly turned to them, "not that I'm complaining, but...there's a small child in our kitchen. And...well, I've never seen her before. Who is she?"

Abigail turned surprised eyes to Jamie.

"Right...you know, it would help if I didn't automatically assume I'd already introduced you two," Abigail gave him an apologetic look before continuing, "come over here, by the door and we'll talk."

Jamie stood, obedient and quiet when Abigail told him the story. As expected, he grew angry not only at the treatment the child had suffered from, but also slightly at his wife for standing in the way of a threatening man with a belt. He was also furious at the man as well.

"Whilst I do commend your bravery-"

"Don't. Say it," Abigail gave him a stern look but softened and nodded her head towards Angelique, "you would have done the same thing and I would have done it had it been four or five men. And I would have used the basket as a weapon."

"Yes, that's what worries me sometimes," Jamie sighed but decided to let THAT thought go, "but I'm glad you're ok. Now...why exactly is she here?"

Abigail shook her head sadly at him and lowered her voice more.

"She has no one. No where to go. When I asked about her home and her parents...where that man lived was her home. Her mother and father are dead and I-I didn't really think of any other safe place. I just thought she could stay here."

"For...how long?"

Abigail shrugged, a little guiltily when she realised she hadn't really discussed it with her husband.

"Until I can get something sorted out for her...I don't know. Can we talk about it later?" She looked at him apologetically, hoping he wasn't too mad. On the contrary, Jamie pressed a kiss against the side of her head and whispered, "she can stay as long as you want her to and as long as she cares to. Well done."

"For?" She turned to him and arched her brow.

"For always doing what's right."

"Excuse me, Mrs. Norrington?"

They both turned their attention to Angelique, who was standing up and holding her now empty plate in front of her.

"I've finished my food. Where do you want me to wash this?"

Abigail stepped forward and smiled down at Angelique.

"Well, you are my guest so you don't have to wash it, pass it here," she took the plate from her and asked, "do you want anymore? Or do you want to wait until supper?"

"Supper, please."

"All right, I'll just wash this up and then, if you still want to, we can read that book I was telling you about?"

The girl nodded and followed Abigail around, shadowing her every move and still helping her as she bustled about the kitchen.

Jamie watched for a bit, amused at seeing such a small child mimic and stand by his wife when they'd only just met. But then, she'd always had a way to make friends quickly.

Seeing as he was not needed, he thought it best to look busy and knelt down in the living room, preparing for the fire they would have that night since a guest was over.

After cleaning up and waiting for the broth to cook for supper, Abigail led the girl over to the large bookcase and quickly skimmed over their collection of books. After Jamie had agreed to the bookcase, there had been no stopping her and she bought home every cheap book she could get her hands on, from old to new. She had read to him some of her favourites and they'd collected almost the complete works of Shakespeare, Milton, and fairytale collection books that had impressed even him.

She slipped one of the titles from its place and held it out to Angelique.

"This was my favourite when I was your age, I think you'll love it!"

The girl tentatively took hold of one end of the book, scanned the cover and held it back up to Abigail.

"Do you not want to read it?"

Angelique looked worried for a moment, before looking back down at the book.

"I can't read it."

Abigail could have kicked herself. She'd never actually asked if Angelique could read, she just assumed

"Well, would you like a hand? I can read it and then we can have a go, together?"

She nodded and Abigail pulled her over to the armchair. Intending to seat Angelique down on the arm, she was pleasantly surprised when the girl instantly crawled into her lap and held the book out for Abigail.

"You know, I meant to say," Abigail looked the little girl in the eye and nodded sincerely, "Angelique, is a very pretty name."

Angelique frowned and looked away.

"What's wrong?"

"That's the name he gave me. He said it was better for me than mine."

Abigail felt a little bit of anger rise in her anger. The girl's very identity had been taken from her by that man.

"All right...so what is your name?"

The little girl on her lap hesitated before she quietly said, "My mother called Mafi. She told me it meant 'forgive'."

Abigail reached up and carefully stroked back the long, black hair that had escaped from the girl's ponytail.

"Mafi. You know, I like it. Much better."

Mafi gave her the first real, genuine smile since they'd met and Abigail returned the gesture before she looked down at the book and began to read.

"Once upon a time, there lived a Princess..."

A few hours later...

Jamie knew he shouldn't have volunteered himself for the chair, but alas, he was a gentleman and of course, that made it impossible for him not to.

After reading, supper and even helping Mafi bathe, Abigail had called for bed and whilst they could have all slept together, Jamie felt that would have probably proven a bit too much for the girl after such an ordeal.

SO, when he found himself alone, he was at least thankful for the warm fire and his thick coat to keep him company. He already missed his bed, but if it meant the little girl would feel happy and safe as she slept, then he'd swap his bed for months. She was shy, but she had managed a little conversation and she told them snippets of what she had experienced and what she loved. She'd told them of getting beaten before and how she loved the blue butterflies she saw in the garden. She told of how he'd lock her away when she made him mad, but she'd found all these wonderfully patterned spiders and bugs to look at.

'Mr Barner' was not a man Jamie liked the sound of. At all.

He was pulled from his thoughts on what he would like to do to this man by his wife, coming down the stairs slowly and smiling at him as she did so.

"Are you not able to sleep?" Abigail gave him an apologetic look and gestured upstairs, "You can swap with me for a couple of hours and rest? Mafi is fast asleep and didn't stir as I left."

He shook his head and smiled at his thoughtful wife.

"You go back upstairs, I'll be fine," he lied through his teeth, but snuggled deeper into the chair, making a show of how 'comfy' it was, "plus she'll not want to wake up with me, prefers your face."

Instead of turning back around and walking up the stairs again, Abigail continued down until she reached the bottom. She walked over to him and leaned over, her face level with his and her hand coming up to stroke his cheek.

"Thank you for this. I shouldn't have sprung it on you-"

"Stop apologising. You did the right thing," his hand came out of his jacket to gently take her wrist so he could place a quick kiss against her palm, "you always do."

Abigail, feeling bold and wide awake, gently sat down on his lap and held him close. He pulled her into him, snuggling and rubbing his beard against her neck as he rested there. He could sleep like this.

"I'm going to go tomorrow and see if I can talk to that man," she let out a frustrated sigh, "I don't see it going easy, but I'm prepared to offer him whatever money he wants."

"Are you sure? Do you want me to go with you?"

"She cannot go back there. I won't let it happen. You know I've never liked the idea of...owning anyone but that...I've never seen anyone do that before. Let alone to a child," she placed a quick kiss against his forehead, "and no, you don't have to. You can stay here with her and help her with her reading. She's very good at it, just needs a bit of help."

Jamie chuckled and wrapped his arms around his wife's waist.

"Is that my new job? Private tutor?"

"Could be worse. You could be stuck with the original job I had for you tomorrow."

"And that would be?"

Abigail pulled back and winked playfully at him.

"Cleaning the bathroom. Top to bottom."

"...you know, I think I'll get her to read Milton"

Abigail arched her brow at him.

"...fine, fairytales it is."

"You have to do the voices."

Jamie grumbled and buried his head between her clothed breasts. Abigail couldn't help but giggle when he muttered, "you always make me do the voices."

The next day...

Abigail had found the house easy enough. It was a large estate and what had once been a prosperous and clean house seemed to have been run to slight ruin. Windows were broken and boarded up, paint was chipping and peeling on the walls and when she found herself inside, she was greeted by the overpowering smell of alcohol and expensive perfume.

But she wasn't here to check out the house. She was also not here to confront the man from yesterday. She was here to get Mafi's papers and keep her with her. She squared her shoulders, set her jaw, and reminded herself NOT to snap at him. No matter how he deserved it.

As she followed the servant through the house and into the study, she saw him, lounging back against his desk and reading a letter. He was still as unkempt as he had been the day before, but he appeared soberer at least.

"Mrs. Abigail Norrington for you, sir," the girl announced loudly and waited until he waved a dismissive hand at her. Because she couldn't help herself, Abigail turned quickly to the girl and nodded her head, saying, "thank you very much."

She knew he would have disliked the way she talked to 'his' servants, but she just had to. Just one little point to her.

When she turned back to him, he was still seated behind his desk.

"Do forgive me if I don't stand, madam," his tone was anything but polite and he barely made eye contact with her, "but I'm unfortunately in a bind. I'm looking to hire more servants because one of mine has gone missing."

_'Don't. Lose. Your. Temper.'_

That had been Jamie's words to her when she set off the day and she'd been repeating it to herself over and over again. And he was right. It would do no good to get mad.

She took a deep breath and nodded her head.

"Then I'm sorry you're...in a bind as such. But I've come to compensate you for your troubles."

She got right down to it, no need to beat around the bush when she knew exactly what she wanted. He finally dropped the papers he was holding and looked at her.

"I don't believe we've had a formal introduction," he'd obviously liked the word 'compensation' and stood up, his bow purposefully too low and too pompous, "Erik Peter Barner. I'd offer you tea but-"

"But you've lost the servant who would bring you tea?" Abigail quickly bit her tongue and amended it by adding, "Apologies again. But I'm all right. Will you hear my offer?"

Erik's eyebrows shot up but seeing as she wasn't willing to make any small talk with him, nodded his head.

"I understand how," Abigail had prepared her words carefully, purposefully making them cool and calculating, knowing he wouldn't go for an emotional speech, "difficult the events of yesterday must have been for you, businesswise. As I said, I'm here to compensate you and offer you a deal: I would like to purchase M-Angelique from you."

She said it. She said the words she never wanted to say in her life and she hated herself for it. She never EVER wanted to 'purchase' a person as if they were an ornament for her home and less than a person.

"Oh?" He walked around his desk and seemed to contemplate this for a moment, before asking, "And how much would you think she is worth?"

Abigail took deep breaths as she prepared to negotiate. She had no head for business but had watched enough of her father's trades to know to put money on the table before setting a 'final' offer.

"£200."

Erik laughed at her, as she had suspected.

"£300 then."

"No."

Abigail sighed, pretending to get frustrated. But she knew where this was going.

"I'm willing to pay up to £1000 which is more than double for what you would have paid for her."

Erik looked her up and down and she felt like SHE was being assessed for a price, when he asked, "you can afford it?"

"Yes. I can," she wasn't about to explain her entire business and affairs with this man, knowing he may very well use it against her, "I have the appropriate paperwork and my solicitor can show you proof. So, do we have a deal?"

He looked her up and down again and shook his head.

"No."

Abigail felt a little flabbergasted. He had seemed like a man with money on his mind, one that could be easily swayed by the flashing of cash. But she'd underestimated him.

Still, she was willing to go higher.

"Very well. £1,200-"

"I don't want your money."

That stopped her in her tracks. He didn't want money. She hadn't planned on this. She'd planned on going as high as she could to get Mafi out and safe from his house and throwing what money she could at him for her paperwork. But now...what to do.

"Well...there must be something you want?" Abigail thought on her feet, "If not money, some-"

"No trinkets. Rare Ornaments. No furniture. No house. My answer is no."

Abigail was not going to take that as an answer. She felt her anger rise when he turned his back to her, obviously intending to end the conversation there, but she snapped and took a step closer.

"There must be some form of payment you will take?!" She was tempted to add 'please', but knew he wouldn't be moved by that.

He slowly turned back to her when she allowed her anger to take control. He was silent as he looked at her and she waited for him. He turned again from her, but this time, his eyes landed on the piano in the far corner of his room.

"Do you play?"

Abigail looked at him like he'd grown a second head. Surely...he wasn't a man that would take a sweet song as payment? Had she underestimated him again?

"It's been a few years, but...I believe I know one or two."

"Then, please. Sit."

Abigail hesitated for a minute. She didn't like the way he kept turning away from her, ending his side of the conversation. But she had to be polite. For Mafi's sake.

She made her way over and sat down on the bench. She dusted off the lid and lifted it up, finding everything intact. She played a few tentative notes and finding the piano was in tune, slowly began to play the only song she remembered off by heart. The sound of Bach filled the air around her and she was transported back to her old home. With her brothers and father listening to her as she played for them. She felt safe and warm and in her mind, as she played, she put Jamie with her family. He had never heard her play and not seeing a piano as a necessity, he may never. But it still pleased her to stir the familiar images in her mind with such a simple song.

She faltered only when he moved behind her and a hand rested on her shoulder. It was firm and unmoving, but it still threw her off.

"Keep playing. It's been so long since there's been a woman here to play."

Abigail, taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the hand continued onwards, but she faltered again when his other hand came to rest against the side of her neck. Her fingers shook as they rested against the keys and he leaned over to whisper into her ear.

"Is that child really so important to you that you'd come all the way here to buy her off of me?" She shuddered in disgust, but he took it as a sign of something else, "No, I think she's just an excuse for what you really want."

Whilst one hand reached around and held her chin, turning her face towards his, the other hand snaked down her front and tried to slip inside her dress. She grabbed at his wrist and tried to pull him off.

"Stop this," her anger grew when he turned her head more forcibly and pressed his lips against hers.

"No!" She managed to shove him and cry out, though when she tried to stand, he went for her again and they stumbled and fell onto the floor.

He continued to grab at her, trying to kiss her and she felt his hot, sticky breath against the skin of her neck.

She remembered how to fight and would have kicked him off, but he grabbed her around her neck with both hands and held her down as he spoke.

"I know you have her. Once I find her again, she'll be back here. All I have to do is show the lawyers and authorities her papers to prove she's mine and they'll take her from you and give her back to me. And I'll lock her in the dark," his grip softened around her neck and his hands began to move downwards, "I just want to touch you. Allow me that and you can have that bastard child."

Abigail couldn't move. Her entire being was filled with terror at his words. At what he wanted. At what he'd do if she didn't let him.

She felt his hands move over her she grasped and weakly grabbed at his wrists as his hands roughly kneaded her breasts over her clothes.

"Please. Please, no," Abigail whimpered as he touched her, his hands staying at the front of her dress and tugging at her lacing. He didn't answer her, but she watched his eyes roam over her when he finally bared her to his sight. His hands came over her bare skin and roughly grabbed her. His fingers pinched her nipples and she cried out in pain, though it seemed to urge him on more.

"Beautiful," he licked his lips and Abigail felt her skin crawl.

Only one man had touched her like this and she was betraying him. It was killing her inside to let Erik do this and all she could think about was her poor husband.

His hands came away from her breasts and moved lower, quickly pulling up the fabric of her skirts. She again tried to push his hands away, forgetting what she was there for.

"Please. Not there, please!"

"Do you not want her?" He smirked evilly when her hands stopped grabbing him, but they still tried to shove the fabric out of his hands, "Just for a moment. Hold your skirts."

Abigail, finding she needed something to hold onto, held her skirts up to her chest and covered herself so she didn't have to look at him. It made it worse. She felt him tug at her bloomers and pull them swiftly down until they were around her ankles.

His hands came to her thighs and squeezed them as he pulled them apart.

She turned her head to the side and felt hot tears run down her head and fall onto the carpet.

His eyes were on her. She knew he was just looking at her. She waited for him to reach out and touch her again.

He never did.

He stood suddenly and turned away from her.

"Leave," was all he said before he made his way back over to his desk and sat down. Abigail was stunned for a moment as he casually seemed to get back to the work she had interrupted before she had arrived.

She snapped herself out of her frozen and terrified state and quickly rearranged her clothing and turned from him to dry her face.

She got up, went to leave, and remembered why she had allowed him to do that to her. She turned back to him and tried to stop her voice shaking.

"I need her papers and a letter of consent. I need it in writing that you agree-"

"No."

Abigail felt sick. He was refusing to let her have the papers to secure Mafi's freedom. Even after she'd let him...she just looked at him and he raised his head to look back at her, a small, sickly grin spreading over his face.

"Come back tomorrow and we'll talk some more then. I think a higher payment is required... but fewer tears tomorrow. We both know there's no need for dramatics."

A few hours later...

Abigail wasn't sure how she had gotten home. She did manage it eventually, but...everything was a blur. Her mind was whirring and she kept stopping to take deep, shuddering breaths. She'd cried twice and almost vomited in the road, but had maintained some dignity as she made her way back.

When she was outside her home, she knew she couldn't enter it and greet them as she was. She had to at least pretend everything was all right, even if it felt like she could shatter at any moment.

More deep breaths, more rearranging her clothes and smiling as nicely as she could before she opened her door and walked in. Jamie and Mafi were sitting at the table, eating from the bowl of fruit and both leaning over a heavy book on in front of them. They both looked up as Abigail entered and despite her panicked mind, she really did feel warmed by the image in front of her.

"How was it?" Her husband asked as he popped a grape into his mouth and Abigail found herself looking at Mafi and realising that she couldn't lie to him quite yet. So she stalled.

"We'll-we'll talk about it later," she nodded towards the little girl who suddenly looked at the orange in her hand and began to peel it eagerly, "don't let me bother you two, I've got stuff to do," she hurriedly made her way into the kitchen and began to busy herself, preparing water for something.

Jamie did note her odd behavior, but feeling that it wasn't the right place to question her in front of Mafi, decided to let it go. For now.

He did however watch her go back and forth, like a headless chicken as she seemed to decide different things in different places. An idea came to his head, one that would get her alone and hopefully more comfortable than she was now.

"Darling," he got her attention when she made to move past him again, "why don't you go and bathe now? It'll be less of a hassle than waiting for after dinner and Mafi can have hers then whilst we clean up?"

Abigail nodded at him and quickly began to move about again, tidying up after herself.

"Good idea. A bath sounds...lovely," the way her voice shook at the last word told Jamie she was thinking it was anything but lovely. Something was wrong. And as he watched her hurry upstairs and avoid his gaze, he knew he would have to find out what it was. For Abigail's sake.

Abigail didn't even bother getting a spare change of clothes. She was up and down the stairs with buckets of water and Jamie had kindly prepared her the kettle on the stove. She filled the tub and linens up with water, not caring for oils or fragrance, and stripped off hurriedly.

She sat down in the water and frantically began to scrub and wipe at her skin. She could still feel him. Feel the places where his rough and sweaty hands had touched her. And no matter how much she scrubbed, she could still feel him. Her hands shook and she dropped the soap into the water. It was no good. She couldn't wash off what he had done. What she had allowed him to do.

_'You fool,'_ she felt more hot tears spill out and quickly clapped her hand over her mouth, trying to stop herself from sobbing loudly, _'you stupid, foolish woman.'_

She let the tears fall into the water as she sat there and tried to get her emotions back under control, but she didn't know what to do. She was torn between her loyalty and love to Jamie and the overwhelming urge to protect Mafi.

Her body shook as she stifled a sob, but there was no point in hiding them now. A small noise alerted her to another presence in the room and she looked up to see Jamie, shutting the door behind him and looking at her with concern.

She couldn't bring herself to even look at him. Shame and guilt flooded her and she just looked down into the water, her hand moving from her mouth to her eyes, trying to hide. What could she possibly blame it on? How could she lie to him? How could she tell him the truth?

He came over to her, knelt down by the tub and reached out. As soon as his fingers touched her shoulder, she recoiled. She couldn't let him touch her after what she had done. He would be angry and heartbroken and have every right to feel that way.

But his hand came over her again and even though she flinched, he gently wrapped his fingers into her long hair and spoke softly.

"Darling. What's wrong? What happened?"

Abigail felt her heart clench painfully as she let out a loud sob. He was so kind and good to her and all he cared about was what had happened to her.

"I-I did something terrible. I'm sorry," she was still looking away from him, one hand covering her eyes, when the fingers in her hair moved to the back of her neck.

His other hand came around and tucked underneath her chin. He turned her to look at him and he managed to prise the hand away from her face and she saw the love in his eyes. His love and worry.

"Tell me? Please."

Abigail took a few deep breaths. She would not lie to him. And even if the truth destroyed the trust he had for her, she knew she had to tell him.

"I went to him...to ask him for the papers and the contract. I offered him money and...he didn't want it."

Her hand grabbed Jamie's and she squeezed it, wanting nothing more than to hold onto him forever. Relish what she had and what she thought she was about to destroy.

"He...doesn't want money. He wants...me. He wants me to lay with him."

Anger flashed in Jamie's eyes and he would have moved, but she wasn't finished. She took another shaky breath.

"I-I let him touch me. I'm sorry. He said he would give us Mafi if I let him and he-he lied," unable to control her tears or her sobs, she looked away from him, but still tried to beg his forgiveness, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Jamie's hands moved away from her and out of her grip and she knew he was angry. She'd done it. She'd destroyed what love and trust they had. He was going to get up and leave her in the room. She hoped he wouldn't walk out and leave her home. Their home.

But he didn't.

Jamie Norrington. Her husband. Climbed into the bath in his clothes and boots and when he knelt in front of her, pulled her into his arms and held her close.

Abigail clung onto him and cried his name, over and over again, apologising every time she remembered to.

"Don't. You tried to do the right thing, don't apologise," his voice was thick and raw with emotion and she now knew the anger she had seen in his eyes before was not for her. It was towards Erik Barner and what he had done.

He held her as she finally managed to stop crying, but she finally registered the gentle rocking motion he was creating for her. The little 'shh' every now and again when she hiccupped or her breath caught. He wasn't leaving her. He was there to stay and he truly did not blame her.

"Love?" He pulled away slightly and made her look up at him, "You need to trust me when I say, this is not your fault. Please, do not blame yourself. You did it for her. Because you believed he would stay true to his word. You could not know. Please...please, do not blame yourself."

Abigail felt every word sink in slowly. She still felt guilty but...he was right. She could not know what a despicable human being Erik Barner was.

But that still left the issue of what would happen tomorrow.

"Jamie, he wants me to return to him tomorrow," she began to shake again at the very idea of him touching her, "he wants...he wants me then. I don't want to go," another sob escaped her lips, "I don't know what to go. Jamie...I can't let her go back there, he'll kill her or worse and I can't-I can't-"

"Love," Jamie pulled her forehead against his own and held either side of her face, "Love, listen to me. We'll think of something. You don't have to go back there, we'll think of something."

"What?" Abigail looked at him desperately, trying to see what he was thinking of, "What can we do? Short of shooting him, he won't give her to us!"

Jamie looked at her in silence for a moment, before a small smile broke over his face.

"I think that's a brilliant idea."

The next day...

Erik Barner was seated in his study again when his servant girl told him he had a guest. And yes, it was Mrs. Abigail Norrington who had called. A sickly grin spread over his face. He bid her leave, downed the last of his glass and poured himself another whiskey. He knew she would come back. He saw how fiery she'd been when they first met and whilst she'd been subdued and calm when she had offered him money, he could tell she was holding herself back. All for the sake of that child.

And when'd had her on the floor, quivering and trying to weakly fight him off, he'd seen how she was like any other woman who had deemed themselves strong and confident: once he had his hands on her bare skin, she had been powerless to him. He had wanted to take her then and there and fuck her until she was raw and begging him to stop.

But he decided to play with her. If she was coming to satisfy him today, then he'd consider giving her the child. If not...then he'd make her keep returning every day until he was satisfied.

She walked into his study, calm and composed as the day before and he was surprised by her composure. He had expected her to be a lot more nervous. But no. She stood to her full height and wore a much more pleasing dress than she had worn the day before. Cut lower and with her corset pulled tighter, her breasts appeared fuller. He remembered how they felt in his hands and the way she cried out when he'd pinched her.

As soon as the door shut behind them, the servant girl retreating as quickly as she could, Abigail did not hesitate.

"I've come to discuss the terms. If you're still open as you were yesterday?"

Erik arched a curious brow at her. When she'd left, he was sure he'd broken her by the way she sobbed and retreated as though the hounds of hell were after her. She had seemed so virtuous and now...she was acting more like a businessman than a frightened little mouse.

"I'm still open to it, though you seemed to have some...reservations," he watched and waited for her response, but he got none so he continued, "very well, Mrs. Norrington. What are your terms?"

Abigail squared her shoulders and took a couple of confident steps towards him.

"I agree to the higher payment. But only under two conditions: One is that you swear, once it is fulfilled and we are satisfied you are to hand over the papers and a letter of consent, giving me Mafi."

Erik nodded. Of course, he would wait until after to see how satisfied he was. Hell, if she satisfied him too much, he may very well keep her in place of Mafi.

"Agreed. And the second?"

Abigail suddenly grew nervous and looked at him, fearful and worry creeping into her voice.

"My husband must not find out about this. He was already suspicious when I left the house today to visit you again. He's not a man you want to quarrel with."

"Oh? What is he, a judge? One of King George's men?"

"A former admiral who sustained a near-fatal wound fighting pirates. Retired. One of the best and most skilled swordsmen and marksmen. He has...quite a temper," she cupped her cheek as if remembering an incident and Erik felt a slight pang of fear himself, "can I trust you with discretion?"

"Of course, Mrs-"

"Please," for the first time since they'd met, she offered him a small, sweet smile, "Abigail."

Erik couldn't have planned this better. Not only was she here and willing, but she seemed more than happy to betray her husband. Perhaps the fear of discovery from yesterday had hindered her want? And perhaps, finding her husband had not discovered WHAT they had done in the study had urged her to return to Erik?

"Abigail...perhaps I underestimated you after all," he smiled and slowly approached her, "I believe we simply got off on the wrong foot."

He stood, a few inches away from her and was pleased to see she didn't flinch away.

"Would you care to join me upstairs-"

Abigail pressed her hand to his lips, cutting him off and shook her head.

"No. Here will do."

Erik felt himself harden at her confidence and eagerness.

"Here? Surely, for your comfort-"

Her hand moved again, as did the rest of her. She pressed her chest to his and he looked down the front of her dress, seeing the generous swell of her breasts pressed against him.

His eyes moved slowly back up to hers and his cock hardened fully when he saw the way she looked at him.

"I'm not looking for comfort. And neither are you."

His hands grabbed her and quickly began to push her backward. He had to have her. Now. She walked back and grabbed hold of his shirt, pulling him with her.

He had her pressed against a hard surface and could have laughed when he saw it was the piano. His hands gripped her hips, lifted her and she sat on the edge, pulling him closer.

Her eyes were not looking at his face anymore, instead, concentrating on the buttons of his shirt and waistcoat.

His hands lifted her skirts again, the same way he had done yesterday, but before he had a chance to tug down her bloomers, her hands grabbed at his belt and began to fumble.

"Off. Now," she said in a hungry, husky way that made him want to throw her on the floor and fuck her as he had dreamed yesterday. But he also liked the slightly commanding tone in her voice.

Both of them unbuckled his belt, undid the lacing to his trousers, and pulled them down, below his waist. His cock sprang free and she gasped in what he could only assume was hunger and admiration. She lifted her head back to look at him and he leaned in closer, wanting to press his lips against hers and taste her again-

The doors behind them sprung open and banged loudly against the walls.

They both quickly looked over and whilst Erik did not know who this man was, he had a horrible, sinking feeling that Abigail's husband had come to call.

"I knew it," his hands fell to his sides and balled into fists as he glared at them, "A scoundrel and a WHORE!"

He bellowed the last word loudly and stalked towards them, Erik jumping out of the way to quickly pull up and re-do his trousers. He was pleased that he was not the first in the line of fire, Norrington's eyes focused solely on his trembling wife.

She clambered down from the piano and shook her head.

"Darling, no-"

The former admiral grabbed her by her forearms, turned her about so his back was to Erik, and threw his hand out to the side.

"How DARE you speak without permission!"

Erik watched in horror as Norrington struck his wife across the face, so hard that she fell to the floor with a scream.

Her head bent low, she cradled the side of her face and stayed down.

"Please, please, darling, no more-"

"I'll deal with you later, at home!" He growled at the quivering figure of his wife before turning around and looking at Erik with cold, hard eyes.

"Sir, I-"

Erik choked on his words when the man drew his pistol from his belt and pointed it directly at his face. They both stared at one another, Erik trembling just as much as Abigail seemed to be.

"If I were as less of a man as you are, I'd shoot you dead. But," slowly he lowered his pistol and scowled at Erik, "my honor and pride have been tarnished. YOU have impeded it. Bring your pistol. Outside. Now. Or I will shoot you and make your death slow and miserable."

He waited. Erik's mouth opened a few times, but no sound came out. The only sound that could be heard was Abigail's frightened sobbing, muffled against her hands.

He had three choices: Refuse to fight and get shot.

Run and risk getting shot if he was too slow.

Or do as the man asked. Bring his pistol outside and duel him, one on one.

Erik was not a confident marksman. He'd practiced when he got drunk, usually aiming at one of the servants if he felt like it. But now, he had no confidence against a man whose wife had described him as one of the best.

It was no good. He tried to think of a way out of it, but looking into Norrington's eyes he could see the man wasn't one to be bargained with. He wanted to fight and by the looks of it, he was going to get his way.

Outside...

"I suspect you've never been in a duel before. Do you know the rules?"

Erik had a loose grasp on the rules. He knew you walked, took a shot and whoever survived without a scratch was a lucky bastard. And if the one that had been shot was not dead straight away, they would be in a week or so. Slow, agonising death by infection, caused by the wound. He'd heard far too many stories from his friends, most of which seemed too good to be true. And now, he was probably going to prove one of those stories correct.

"Sir, I must request we talk about this as civilised Gentlemen," Erik tried to keep himself calm, but his voice shook, "I'm sure we can come to some understanding-"

"If you refuse to fight me now, then I assume you forfeit. Forfeiting allows me to shoot you where you stand. Like a dog," James Norrington's cold look had not changed since they'd left the house, "I'm giving you a chance to salvage your dignity. Now, the rules."

Erik was only half listening as he explained the rules of a duel to him. He was concentrating on keeping himself upright when James moved him so they were back to back. He was also trying to concentrate on not having a heart attack as they began to walk, counting to ten as they went.

As James counted out nine, Erik turned quickly, hoping to catch the man out. But, of course, he'd seen it coming. Before Erik could even fire his pistol, James turned around, aimed, and shot him.

Erik fell to the ground, the pistol flying out of his hand as he cradled his bloodied limb. He looked down and gasped at the sight that greeted him: his two fingers were missing and his ring finger was cut open. Blood dripped down onto the ground beneath him and he cursed and cried out in agony as a wave of pain swept over him.

He was only distracted by the crunching of boots and the sudden appearance of Norrington in front of him. He looked up at him, just in time to see him preparing his pistol again.

"Ten."

He pointed his pistol at Erik's head, anger flashing over his eyes. Erik held up his good hand in surrender.

"Please. Your wife was the one who came to me."

"I'll deal with her later. But give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow your brains out now and let you greet God this day?"

"I can pay. I have enough."

"I have sufficient money."

Erik began to grasp desperately at what straws he had. Abigail had pointed out she had money and the only thing she wanted was the girl. Perhaps...

"Then- the girl! Your wife wanted her for your house! You can have her and any other servant as-as compensation!"

The pistol was lowered and Erik watched the man deliberate.

"Yes, we could do with extra help around the house," he callously said and tucked his pistol back into his belt, "we'll take the one for now. If her work is satisfying, we'll return and get the other. Get up."

Erik hurriedly scrambled to his feet and began to lead the way back inside his house, chatting animatedly to his 'new friend' about how wonderful and hardworking his servants were. He was doing it partly to appease Norrington, but also to concentrate on something else other than the pain in his hand.

They walked back into the study, where Abigail was still in the same spot she had been left, her sobs having quietened down, but her hands still shaking and covering her face. Erik watch James ignore her and walk straight to his desk.

"Papers. And a letter of consent," he snarled at Erik as the man scuttled around to the other side, "and a personal promise from me, that if I ever catch you with my wife again, I will shoot you."

Erik nodded his head and hurriedly scrabbled into his desk for his papers. He was thankful that Norrington had allowed him to quickly bandage his hand when they'd entered the house, though he wasn't happy to be using on his old coat sleeves.

Still, when he pulled out his papers and began to spread them out on the desk, only a small amount of blood smeared over them. He quickly found the one with 'Angelique's' ownership and scribbled over his name, handing it to the man.

Norrington took it but gave him a hard stare.

"And the letter."

Erik looked a little startled.

"But, my hand-"

"You've got another one. I'll help."

His idea of helping was to dictate something very short and to the point and have Erik sign his name under it. It was enough and even if he showed it to his lawyers, he knew he wouldn't have a leg to stand on.

As soon as he handed the sheet of paper over, he expected many things. Norrington to change his mind and whip his pistol back out. Norrington to go on a long speech about the repercussions of sleeping with married women, specifically his wife.

What he hadn't expected was the triumphant smile that spread across Norrington's face as he looked at the papers in his hands.

"Yes. This seems satisfactory," he turned around and addressed his wife, "got it!"

Erik was stupefied as Abigail's hands fell away to reveal a dry face and a smug grin. She quickly got up and walked over to her husband, eagerly taking the papers from him. She scanned the contents quickly and seemingly satisfied, folded them neatly up, and shoved them down the front of her dress.

"Brilliant!" She looked at her husband and then at Erik, "Oh dear. I suggest getting that seen to. Could turn nasty. Gangrene and all. Don't want to lose that hand, do you?"

Erik looked between the smiling pair and the truth finally came to him.

"You-you-tricked me!" He blustered, shocked that he'd fallen for it.

Slowly, James Norrington, former Admiral, and Commodore walked away from his wife and around the desk that separated them. He was calm, composed and his hands were behind his back as he spoke.

"I could spend all day trying to talk to you, but I have a feeling it won't get through as well as that shot to the hand did. So, count it as a reminder: never raise your hand to anyone here again. If I hear about it, I will come back and show no mercy."

He came to stand in front of Erik, a polite smile on his face.

"And one more thing."

Erik did not move quick enough. Jamie's fist connected with his nose and he flew backward, hitting his chair and tumbling down onto the ground. More blood began to pool out of him and he held up his bandaged hand to try to stop the flow, the pain radiating from the break being just as bad as the pain in his hand.

Jamie took one step towards him and Erik scuttled back, in fear he would hit him again. But he just stared down at him, the hard glare returning.

"That's for my wife."

Abigail suddenly appeared at Erik's side and crouched down, her face level with his. For one moment, he thought she would show him kindness and tend to his wounds. But her hand grabbed the front of his shirt and she only smiled politely at him.

"And this. This is for Mafi."

Erik's head snapped back when her own fist planted a spectacular punch between his cheek and his eye. The pain quickly doubled and when she released her grip from the front of his shirt, he fell back against the floor, whimpering and groaning.

Abigail stood up, dusted off her hands, and turned to her husband.

"All right, let's go home."

They walked out from around the table and Jamie's arm slipped happily around her waist as he guided them out. The last thing Erik saw before the darkest obscured his vision, was Abigail and James Norrington, holding one another as they left his house.

They did not stop until they were outside, Abigail quickly shaking the hand out as she tried to get rid of the pain in her knuckles.

"Ow. For someone with such a small brain, he's got a hard head."

"That's what happens when you insist on getting in on the fight," Jamie stopped them and quickly turned her about, his hands coming to either side of her head as he inspected her face, "speaking of which, I didn't accidentally catch you, did I? I thought my sleeve may have gotten caught-"

"You're fine, you practiced it and your timing was perfect," Abigail grabbed his hands and pressed kisses to either of his palms, "And well done for only shooting him in the hand."

"Why, where would you have me shoot him?"

Abigail didn't say anything. She merely looked down at the front of his trousers and smiled darkly at him.

He could only shake his head and laugh.

"Too good for the likes of him," he lent forward, intending to kiss her but stopped just before to add, "also, you're not wearing that dress out again."

Abigail purposefully turned her head to the side so his lips landed against her cheek instead.

"Why not?" She asked innocently, though he could hear the teasing in her tone.

"You know why."

"Oh? And what are you going to do if I DO wear it?"

Jamie began to press kisses along the side of her face until he reached her ear. He whispered, "throw it on the fire and put you across my knee."

Abigail giggled and playfully shoved him away.

"Stop that," her fingers entwined with his and she began to pull him along again, "save it for later. Come on, let's get home and tell Mafi the good news."

As they walked through town and along the dusty, beaten road, Jamie listened to her talk excitedly. His heart sank when she started to discuss plans for Mafi and he knew, he had to stop her when she talked about what to get the girl.

"I have some time tomorrow, I can go to the market and get her some clothes. And a bed with a lovely frame."

"Abigail-"

"And books. She'll want to pick out her own, but I'm sure they'll be ones to help her start off reading-"

Jamie tugged Abigail's hand, forcing her to stop walking and look at him.

"Abigail," he shook his head and spoke as gently as he could, "darling...you know she can't stay with us."

Abigail looked taken aback for a moment.

"She-She can. It won't be an issue-"

"Not with us. I want her to stay too, but...you know it's not safe," Jamie stepped forward and looked beseechingly at Abigail, "if Erik chooses to stir up trouble for us, he could easily get the law involved. He may have signed the letter of consent and contract, but if he states it was because I attacked him...he may not get Mafi back, but she won't be allowed to stay with us. She'll be sent somewhere else. Possibly someplace worse."

Abigail shook her head and tried to break her hands free from Jamie's, but he refused to let go of her.

"No, we can fight for her, she'll-she'll-"

"There's another way...if we can send her away, someplace far away, she'll be safe."

Abigail's lips began to quiver and he saw the pain in her eyes. She knew he was right but...there was another problem.

"Jamie...Jamie, I love her," Abigail looked at him, hoping he would understand, "I know it's only been a short time, but I do."

"I know, Love," he pulled Abigail against him and tucked her head under his chin as he held her close, "I've grown fond of her also."

Abigail began to cry again as she clung to her husband, knowing that she had to lose this little girl before she really had a chance to get to know her.

"Why...why can't she stay," she whimpered, but already knew the answer.

"She'll be safer away from here, where he can't get his hands on her. Love...it is the right thing to do."

Abigail held onto him and she could only nod to show that she understood. But it didn't make it any easier. In fact, it made her feel ten times worse.

A few days later...

As Abigail tucked the cloak around Mafi and tied the ribbons at the front, she took her time in making a perfect bow, just wanting to stay as close to her as she could.

"There we go, perfect," her hands shook as they fell away from the ribbon, her hands moving over to fuss with the edges of the cloak once more, "nice and warm AND dry."

Abigail was trying to reassure herself more than Mafi. She knew the boat ride would not be easy, but the least she could do was provide her with a warm cloak that wouldn't get wet. She took deep breaths as she prepared herself to let go, but she didn't know if she could.

Jamie had told her of his plans and arrangements countless times, but she still didn't want to let go. Mafi would get on a boat with a family she did not know and be taken to an island owned by a good man. Jamie had assured her that the man was indeed good and whilst he had servants, he never 'kept' people. From what he'd seen and heard, the man was kind and the people who lived there were happy. And that's all they wanted for Mafi, was for her to be happy.

"Abigail...it's time."

Abigail turned her head slightly, seeing Jamie standing beside her and his hand brushing against her shoulder, wanting to give her more time but unable to.

Abigail looked back at Mafi and tried to fight back her own tears as Mafi let hers fall freely.

"Be brave. Be brave for me, all right?"

Without warning, Mafi dove forward and held Abigail tightly, her little hands joining together around the back of her neck.

"I wish I could stay with you."

That was it. The wall she had built up, the little string she'd had holding back the bucket of tears...she held Mafi back tightly and cried with her.

"Me too. I wish it so much, but this...this is much better. You'll be happy where you're going and safe."

Reluctantly, she pulled back and kept Mafi at arm's length. If she let her hug her again, she really wouldn't let go.

"We have something for you," Abigail took deep breaths to control her wobbling voice and turned to Jamie. He produced a small book, one that they had purchased that morning. He handed it to Mafi, who took it and held it tightly against her.

"I know it may be difficult but...Keep practising. Keep reading. And then, when you can write, I want a letter. I want lots of letters about all the lovely animals you see...ok?"

Mafi nodded at her.

"And I promise, I'll write you back...if you like?"

Mafi finally smiled at her and nodded again.

As soon as Abigail's hands left her small shoulders, she stood up, took a step back, and sought out her husband's hand. When fingers locked with hers, she held onto him tightly.

Jamie had already said his polite goodbyes to Mafi, offering his hand for her to shake. Mafi had only hugged him tightly around the waist, Abigail finding a small amount of amusement as she watched him tentatively hug the girl back, as though afraid he would hurt her.

Goodbyes were said between everyone, Jamie asking for a letter so they would know they reached the island safely. Abigail had been unable to take her eyes off of the scared little girl as she clutched the book tightly to her chest.

Everything began to blur together. It hurt so much to watch them all climb into the tiny boat and row away. Mafi looked back and wouldn't turn around.

Abigail and Jamie stood and watched them go. Even when they were a tiny speck on the sea and the sun began to set, she wouldn't move. It was Jamie wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back home that she finally managed to walk. But even getting home was hard. Her heart felt sore and heavy and only Jamie's comforting presence by her side kept her walking. If he stopped, so would she.

Finally, they were back at their own home. And whilst it should have felt warm and welcoming...it felt a little bit emptier this evening.

"Come sit down," Jamie pulled her again, and this time, got her to sit at the kitchen table, "I'll make you some tea."

"No, I-I don't want tea," Abigail looked down at the table in front of her, splaying her hands out against the wooden surface, "I don't...I don't think I want anything."

Jamie took the seat opposite her and slowly reached forward. Their hands slipped together easily.

"I hate to see you like this," his thumb slowly traced over the back of her knuckles, unsure of how to comfort her. Abigail shut her eyes, willing the tears away before they started again.

"I just fell in love with her so easily. She needed my help but...when she was here, we talked and she followed me and I just-I just," Abigail stopped herself, unable to convey how she felt at the moment. How this little girl, whom they had not even known for a week, had effected Abigail in such a way. How for a short time, she may not have been a mother, but she did slip into the parenting role eagerly and happily, especially for such a child as Mafi.

"I know," Jamie told her, and whilst she felt he didn't understand, she knew he was sincere. She also knew she couldn't sit around and cry about it for the rest of the night. At least, not all the time in front of Jamie when her being upset would upset him.

"I urm, I left laundry outside earlier," she got up and made quick excuses, "I best go and get it."

She grabbed the basket by the door and headed out, not looking behind her. Truthfully, it was just one dress and shirt, but she needed the air for a minute or two. Just...needed to think.

Mafi had awakened something in her that she hadn't realised she'd been craving. She'd told Jamie that she wanted to spend more time with him and put off starting a family straight away but...she truly wanted that. She had wanted a family with him for so long and Mafi...she had wanted Mafi to be part of that family, regardless of what people would have thought. She would have fought tooth and claw to keep her, but Jamie had been right...if they hadn't of sent her away, she wouldn't be safe. It was the right thing to do.

With a heavy sigh, Abigail took down the two items she'd left out, put them in her basket, and walked back inside. Jamie might not understand her current feelings, but he would be there for her. He'd proven that after she told him what Erik did. He'd helped her see that it wasn't her fault what had happened. It made her love for him grow stronger than she thought possible.

As she entered the house again, she was surprised to find Jamie had moved from the table and into his armchair. However, when the sound of the door opening seemed to startle him, he stood suddenly, with his back to her and his arm coming to his face.

"Jamie?" She slowly approached him, wondering what he had been doing.

His shoulders sagged and his head bent low before he turned towards her. In his hand was a small piece of parchment that had some loose scribblings on it. Something he had been helping Mafi with when learning her letters.

In his eyes, were fresh tears and he gave her a guilty sort of smile.

"I told you I'd grown fond of her also."

Abigail knew then that she had underestimated him when she thought he didn't understand her feelings. Dropping the basket onto the table as she walked past, she came to stand in front of him.

"Jamie."

She wanted to tell him she was ready. She wanted to let him know she wanted to start a family with him. To carry his child.

But all words fled as their arms came about one another and they just held on, comforting one another at what could have been. She was ready and she could see he was also, but...there would be time. Not today and maybe not tomorrow, but soon. For now, they were together. And whilst they both wanted more...they were content with the family they had right at that moment.


	10. On Proper Ceremony

On proper ceremony

Abigail jumped out of her skin as two hands suddenly came over her eyes, but she laughed when a familiar voice purred into her ear, "guess who?"

"Hmm...Jack Sparrow?"

"You wound me," lips pressed against the back of her neck and she was glad she'd remembered to tie her hair up.

"Oh, what a shame...let me kiss you better?" Abigail tried to turn around and pull the hands off of her eyes, but he held her close and pressed his chest against her back.

"Actually, I have a surprise for you. And you have to keep your eyes shut," his voice dripped with honey and promise and she felt herself lean against him, "and promise to do as you're told."

"Oh, Jamie," Abigail let her hands wander down and she tried to reach back behind herself, grabbing at his clothes, "if you're about to do what I think you are-"

"No and behave," he dodged her grasp and chuckled against her ear again, "now...promise to keep your eyes closed?"

She gave him a heavy sigh and agreed readily. His hands came away and she kept her eyes shut tight as she felt him walk in front of her.

"Give me your hand, love," he gently ran his fingers down her forearm until she lifted her hand and he held it carefully in his palm, "and...just wait."

Abigail felt his other hand move over her fingers and something cold slipped over her skin. She wanted to look, she really did, but she HAD promised him to wait. Slowly, his hands slipped away from hers, allowing her to hold her own up by herself.

"You may open."

Slowly, she did as he requested. She first saw his small smile before lowering her eyes to her hand. On the third finger of her left hand, now lay a simple band of silver, with a tiny diamond in the centre in the shape of a heart. Above it, was a tiny crown and whilst it looked new, she could tell it was expensive.

"Oh...Jamie, this is," unable to find words for exactly how she was feeling, she gave him a flabbergasted look and asked, "where did this come from?"

"Hargotts. They...well, they were selling them and I've been saving up for a while," he answered her, slightly shy at being caught out that it WAS expensive.

But that hadn't been what she meant.

"No, I mean...why?"

"Because you never got one when we married."

Abigail's heart and stomach both began to act strangely. He'd gotten her a gift because she'd made some offhand comments a few months ago about not being like other wives and their rings. She didn't feel guilty, she felt...overjoyed that he'd not only remembered but given her something she'd secretly been longing for.

"Thank you," she leant in close to him and held either side of his face, "my love...thank you."

She was going to kiss him, but he stopped her, a secretive glint in his eye as he covered her hands with his own again and pulled her grasp off of his face.

"Do you trust me?"

_'With my life.'_

She nodded her head.

"Don't ask me why, but...come with me. Right now. No questions."

Abigail was very curious. She could easily have said no and gotten _some_ information out of him but...there was something about him this evening that just seemed...planned. He had something special for her. And she did trust him with her whole being.

"All right," she stepped away and pulled her hands from his, holding them up defensively, "though...I have one question?"

He arched his brow at her and looked ready to remind her what he just said, but she quickly interjected, "do you want me to bring my cloak?"

He shut his eyes, shook his head and laughed.

"Yes."

"And what-"

"You won't need your basket or anything else."

"All right...one more question," she stepped back closer to him and placed her hands against his chest, "give us a kiss."

Jamie smirked and happily obliged her, though just before his lips met hers, he couldn't help but tease, "that wasn't a question."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Abigail and Jamie had walked the long stretch from their home and into the town, with simple conversation or companionable silence. She HAD promised not to ask any questions about where they were going, but sometimes she'd cheekily ask him something.

"I hope my shoes are decent. Are my shoes decent?"

"Yes, very."

"Hmmm...what about my dress? It's not too-"

"Stop it. I know what you're doing."

Abigail hadn't stopped pouting until he'd picked her up around the waist, spun her around and gotten her laughing at his nonsense.

She wondered what their destination was in town when he stopped outside the small chapel. He led her up the steps and inside and the sight inside took her breath away.

Whenever they went on Sundays, it was usually during the day and the people there made it difficult to move about and appreciate the small, but wonderfully decorated building.

But now, she was in awe. In the late evening the entire place was lit only by hundreds of tiny, flickering candles and the only other person there was the chaplain. He was standing with his back to them, preparing books at the side, but the sound of the Jamie closing the door behind them alerted him to their presence.

He turned around and smiled.

"Ah, Mr Norrington," he placed the books down and stepped away, bowing politely, "Mrs Norrington. Are we ready?"

"Urm," Abigail answered him, unable to actually agree to what it was they were 'ready' for. She turned to her husband, who only took her hands in his and held them close to his face.

"We've been married for over a year now and...I never gave you a ring. And I stopped and thought about it for a while and realised, I hadn't been able to give you a few things. One of them being, a proper wedding day."

Abigail looked momentarily taken aback.

"What are you talking about?" She laughed, a little nervous that he may have forgotten about the day he nearly died, "Hector married us on the pearl-"

"Doesn't count."

"Oh...it doesn't?" She could have sworn being married at sea by the captain of a ship was legal.

"No," he stepped closer to her and lowered his voice, "because we were surrounded by people that didn't really care and married by a man whose morals are looser than a badly tied knot."

"Good analogy."

He brought her hands closer to his face and kissed her briefly on each knuckle, a wave of warmth washing over her as he did so.

"Here, it's you and I. The only two people that matter. In a place I wanted...well, to look special for you," she saw a slight blush reach his cheeks, but daren't interrupt him, "with a man with very good morals. And I ask you...properly this time."

Slowly, Jamie knelt before her on one knee and still holding her hands, looked up at her and smiled.

"Abigail Sarah Gilbert, will you do me, James Peter Norrington, the honour of marrying me?"

She would have added 'again' onto the end of his statement, but her heart was beating furiously in her chest and her stomach was doing flips.

She smiled down at him and gave his hands a reassuring squeeze when he looked mildly alarmed at her silence.

"Yes. Jamie, I will."

"Tonight?"

Abigail blinked a couple of times at him and then, quickly looked about her.

"Oh...oh you bloody sneaky git!" She laughed and loosened one hand enough to give him a gently slap around his shoulder, "This is what all this is?! Oh, I could-"

He didn't let her finish her thought as he stood up, pulled her close and kissed her firmly on her mouth. She willingly went to him, her hands grabbing at the folds of his jacket as she kissed him back with as much passion as she could.

He'd bloody done it. He'd gone and given her the biggest surprise of her life and as she kissed him, she poured all of her love and thanks into it, thanks too that he was alive and she was lucky to have him and-

"Ahem. That's usually saved for after I say you can kiss."

Abigail slowly pulled away the same restrained, amused expression reflecting itself on Jamie's face as she was sure was showing on hers. They both parted and looked towards the openly amused chaplain and quickly apologised.

When Jamie's hand slipped into hers and they walked towards the altar, Abigail felt like the most important woman in the world. The luckiest as well.

They turned to one another as the Chaplain spoke, reciting his words from the book in his hands and talking to 'all those present'.

Abigail was listening, but she was also focused on Jamie, who was smiling at her in such a way that it made her want to kiss him again. He looked so happy and she was glad to be the reason for that joy.

When the exchanging of the rings was mentioned, a sudden memory came to her mind and she mentally kicked herself for not prying about his secrecy a bit more. Still, she'd give him his present when they returned home.

When he slipped her ring off, she playfully mouthed 'oi' at him and he responded with an amused wink before slipping it back on. They recited the vows as the chaplain indicated for them to do, Abigail feeling herself tear up slightly when Jamie became a little bit emotional himself.

Still, they both managed to hold it together long enough for him to finish, shutting his book as he did so.

"They have vowed, in our presence, to be loyal and loving towards each other. They have formalized the bond between them with spoken vows and with the giving and receiving of rings. Therefore, it is my pleasure to now pronounce them husband and wife. You may now kiss one another."

When Jamie's lips met hers and his arms wrapped around her, pulling her tightly against him, Abigail felt that stirring she felt on the first day they'd told one another they loved each other. Wonderful. Light. Perfect.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Jamie, you can put me down!" Abigail laughed as Jamie continued to swing her about in his arms, 'dancing' with her to a tune he was singing off key.

_"Fare thee well my own true love,_

_And farewell for a while._

_I'm going away, but I'll come again,_

_If I go ten thousand miles._

_Ten thousand miles, my own true love,_

_Ten thousand miles or more,_

_And the rocks may melt and the seas may burn,_

_If I should not return._

_Oh, don't you see that lonesome dove,_

_Sitting on an ivy tree,_

_She's weeping for her own true love,_

_Just as I shall weep for mine."_

Abigail couldn't help but squeal in delight as he spun her around again, lowering her feet to the floor, but keeping his arms around her waist as he made her dance with him.

_"Oh, come back my own true love,_

_And stay awhile with me,_

_For if I had a friend all on this earth,_

_You've been a friend to me._

_And fare thee well my own true love,_

_And farewell for a while._

_I'm going away, but I'll be back_

_If I go ten thousand miles."_

Abigail's arms looped around his neck and she shook her head.

"Not a chance. You're not getting away from me that easily."

"That sounds promising," Jamie's lips came to hers and between small, heated kisses, they managed to have a proper conversation, "and don't think for a second I'm going to let you out of my sight for the night."

"What if we get hungry?"

"I'll carry you down into the kitchen."

"What if I need to bathe?"

"I'm scrubbing you clean."

"What if I can't stop kissing you?"

"I'm sorry, I can't see the problem there."

"Good, I was just checking."

They DID manage to disentangle themselves long enough for Abigail to hang up her cloak and his coat and for Jamie to tug her down onto the floor, so they were both seated close to one another. Abigail caught a glimpse of her ring, held her hand out to the side and admired it.

He caught her looking and smiled.

"I'm glad you like it."

"I love it. It's perfect," she caught his lips with hers quickly and turned back to admire it, "small, pretty and perfect."

"They had a matching one, but I don't think I would have suited it," he chuckled and began to press hot kisses against her neck that almost distracted her.

"Oh, actually...stay right there!" Abigail pried herself away from him quickly enough so that he didn't have time to grab her and stop her. He glared playfully up at her and she almost giggled at his pout.

"I thought you weren't going anyway?!"

"Well, I wasn't until I remembered...I have something for you," Abigail pointed to the ceiling above and held out her other hand, "it's upstairs and I will go and get it. I'll be a few minutes. YOU STAY. Get the fire going as well, it's cold on the floor."

"Oh, very forceful," he smiled up at her and wiggled his brows, "anything else?"

"Yes," she playfully raised her skirts to her knees and asked him in her best teasing tone, "shall I remove my bloomers now or-"

"Don't. You. Dare. That's my job."

Oh God, she loved him when he looked at her that way.

Quicker than she thought possible, she went upstairs, into their bedroom and pulled open the old trunk she had first purchased when she'd arrived at the house. Carefully, she pulled the bundles of clothes, shoes, accessories and trinkets out until she reached the box at the bottom.

She pulled it out, opened it up and smiled at its only two contents. She wouldn't need the one on the left, but she still felt a tad bit of regret as she separated its partner on the right and put the box back inside.

"It's been more than a few minutes!" Jamie shouted from down the stairs and she couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Don't be bossy, that's my job!" She carefully began to put everything back inside, this time going a lot slower as she did so, "Is that fire ready yet?"

"Nearly dear!"

"It better be ready by the time I come downstairs!" She smiled, just picturing his own amused face at their banter.

"What's going to happen if it's not?"

"Then I'll take my bloomers off without you!"

She was met by silence, but couldn't help but giggle as she imagined his disgruntled expression as he hurried to get the fire going.

"I can hear you laughing!"

She let out a loud cackle of laughter as she stood up and made her way back down the stairs, her booty tucked into her hand.

"Nonsense, you're hearing things," she dismissed it as she took each step carefully and didn't turn around to see if he had the fire going, "It must have been the crackling fire you heard."

As she took the last step and walked towards him, she felt another wave of warmth and love wash over her as she looked at the scene before her. He had gotten the fire going and stripped down to just his trousers and tunic, one of his legs propped up to support his elbow as the other stretched out towards the warm flames. He looked up at her and she felt her legs turn to jelly.

"Hello, Mrs Norrington."

She slowly knelt down beside him, careful not to touch him just yet.

"Good evening to you, Mr Norrington," with her free hand, she held it open and facing upwards towards him, "I would like your hand and your trust. If I may?"

He slipped his hand into hers the way she had done so earlier and watched her as she spoke.

"When father died...when I lost him, I thought he'd taken his ring with him. He'd promised to give it to me with mothers for when I got married. And then...when we returned to Port Royal and I visited my house I went to his room and...there it was. Safely tucked away with my mother's. Those were the only things I took."

She brought up her other hand and with her father's gold ring, she slowly slipped it onto his third finger. They were both surprised at the perfect fit as it slid on without any issue.

"Had I known where you were taking me, I would have grabbed this but...it's yours now," she cleared her throat and looked back at him, remembering the exact words she'd spoken to him only an hour ago, "I, Abigail Gilbert, take you Jamie Norrington, to be my husband AGAIN, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse," she slowly slipped the ring off and on again on his hand, "for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; until death do us part."

When his hand slipped from hers and came to rest against the side of her neck, she leant forward and kissed him just the way she had done in the chapel. They both sighed, content at feeling one another, warm and safe in the other's embrace.

He lowered her to the floor and lay on top of her, his hands supporting himself either side of her so he wasn't crushing her. When their mouths came apart, the tip of his nose rubbed against hers and he smiled at the irony of what had just happened.

"Had I known you had that ring, I would have done this long ago."

"Sorry I made you spend your money."

"I'm not. This ring is yours and yours alone...you save that other ring for our children," he explained between little kisses, "one of them will be a happy wife or find a happy wife to be."

"Children?" She kissed him back, her hands wounding around his neck to hold him in place, "How many did you think we were having?"

"Hmm...two to start off with."

"Oh, I see," she smiled against his lips and shifted her legs so he could press his hips against hers, "start off with. And how many in the end?"

Jamie gave her a long-suffering sigh.

"Depends on how exhausted you make me."

She stopped kissing him and used the grip on the back of his neck to pull him away so she could glare at him. He then realised exactly HOW that last statement had sounded as though he was calling her exhausting, rather than the act of child making itself.

"That-that didn't come out the way I intended-" he sputtered, trying to explain, but stopped when she began to giggle at him and he knew then that she was just playing with him.

"Oh, you little wench!" He felt her grip loosen and dove forward, his mouth pressing against her neck as he began to nibble at her flesh, "I'll bloody show you."

Abigail could only squeal in delight as his hands began to move and his teeth grazed against the pulse point on her throat.

She did enjoy teasing him, just as much as she knew he enjoyed teasing her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Darling, have you fallen asleep?"

"Mmm? Not quite," Abigail did have her eyes shut and did feel that familiar sleepy pull, but who could blame her when she was utterly relaxed.

After making love by the fireside, eating a hearty 'wedding feast' as Jamie put it and having him run her bath, they'd enjoyed washing one another and pleasuring one another until the water began to turn lukewarm. But they barely noticed.

Jamie was resting with his back against the tub and his legs open for Abigail to lay in between. Her back was pressed to his chest and her head rested against his shoulder.

'This must be what heaven's like,' she'd said out loud as his arms held her and his fingers stroked lazy circles against her skin.

And now, as she was pressed against him and felt the occasional press of his lips against her head, she felt that she could easily slip off into sleep the way she was now.

"If we were rich, I'd treat you like a princess."

"You already do. And I'm richer for it."

"I mean it," he pressed another kiss to the top of her head as he continued, "I'd take you out to eat at the finest restaurants. You'd have as many dinner parties as you want. Theatre...Opera...concerts...I'd take you to Paris or Rome."

Abigail snuggled deeper against him, picturing it all and smiling happily at seeing him at her side in every image she conjured up.

"That sounds lovely...but, I've got something better than that."

"Oh?"

She placed her arms on top of his and held them in place.

"My husband, alive. Helping me paint the walls, wash the windows...having picnics outside when the weather is just perfect. Dinner by the fireside...making love by the fireside. Filling my bath up for me."

He chuckled and shifted, pulling her even closer.

"I don't need all those things. Small things are alright, but...I can do without another expensive dress, for another expensive meal with people I don't really care about...the only person that matters is with me, right now."

Jamie sighed happily and shut his eyes as he pressed the side of his head against hers.

"I will do everything I can to make you happy. And if you don't need those things, then tell me what you do need and I'll give it to you."

"Jamie?"

"Yes?"

She turned her head slightly and pressed a kiss against his cheek.

"I've got what I need. And I'm happy. I'm so happy."

"Then I am too," despite the temperature beginning to drop, Jamie still felt he could hold her as she was, forever.

Eventually, however, it did get too much for Abigail and she reluctantly disentangled herself from him, complaining about how they were beginning to prune.

They both stood up and held one another again as the water slowly dripped off of them. Jamie began to pepper kisses along her jaw as he remembered something else important.

"I'm also glad I could give you something else we missed out on."

"Hmm?" Her fingers tangled into the ribbon of his hair and pulled it out gently, allowing his locks to fall over her hand.

"A wedding night. Just us. Our bed."

"Oh...Love," she pulled away slightly and tilted his head forward to look down at her, "Take me to bed."

Jamie stepped out of her embrace and then out of the tub, offering her his hand as he went. When she took it and stepped out with him, she had barely touched the floor before he bent down and scooped her up again into his arms.

"Jamie!" She laughed as he began to slowly walk forward, naked and uncaring.

"I need to carry you over the threshold, don't I?"

"I think that only counts for the house?"

"Want me to put you down?"

"...No," she blushed and tucked her head back against his shoulder.

She tried to hide it, but he could feel her and she knew what he knew about her: that she was grinning like a fool.

A happy fool.


	11. Sacrifice

Sacrifice

"I've thought about it," Jamie announced happily as he sat down at the kitchen table and moved his chair closer, "candied limes."

"Sorry?" Abigail looked up at him, wondering what she had missed in the conversation.

"It's all right, you were paying attention earlier," Jamie gave her a knowing smile and quickly spooned some of his porridge into his mouth before he continued, "and I thought about it. What I'm giving up for lent, could be candied limes."

Abigail DID remember the conversation as they lay in bed together. She'd asked him and he simply said he'd have to think about it.

And now that she knew what he'd be giving up, she found it quite suitable.

"Hmmm...yes, that sounds reasonable. You do eat a lot," she idly sucked on the tip of her spoon, getting off the last bit of honey.

She saw his arched brow and rolled her eyes.

"What? You do!" His expression remained the same and she decided to prove her point, "You had a bag yesterday. Thirty-Five. Do you have any left?"

"...Possibly," Jamie looked back down at his bowl and mumbled, "somewhere."

Abigail gave an unladylike snort, seeing straight through his little charade. She'd already found the empty paper bag, tucked between the cushion of the armchair.

"What about you," he looked up and asked inquisitively, "what shall you give up?"

Abigail thought about it for a moment, contemplating anything she might overindulge in.

"Maybe I should give up baths?"

Jamie smirked as he picked up and dipped his crumpet into the mix.

"For good?"

"What? No, just for lent," Abigail could have stuck her tongue out at her husband's silliness, but instead nudged his knee with her toe, "I can just use a bucket and sponge and stand and do it...it won't be pleasant, but then it's not supposed to be, is it?"

Jamie thought about this for a moment and whilst he did so, felt her toe return to his knee, drawing lazy circles on his clothed leg.

"That is a good idea. Though that would make washing your hair a little awkward."

"Oh...true," she sighed and stirred her breakfast, staring gloomily at its contents, "I just have no idea what to give up."

Thinking honesty was the best policy, Jamie could recall quite a few things she overindulged in. He didn't know he was about to open Pandora's box.

"Lemon tarts? You bake those every other day and eat half the batch? Jelly and custard...there's a lot on the shopping list we don't actually need."

Jamie continued to rattle of sweets and desserts, but he wasn't paying attention to his wife's face as she gave him a blank stare. The toe on his knee stopped and slowly withdrew, but he still didn't notice.

"And if not food, what about the new books from Phillips? We've got plenty at the moment and I'm sure we don't need another of your Shakespeare's cluttering the shelves."

If Jamie had seen the minute look of anger flash in her eyes, he would have shut himself up. Alas, he was too far gone in being 'helpful'.

"Or ribbons, surely you don't need different ribbons for every outfit-"

Abigail stood suddenly, her chair scraping behind her as she did so. She gathered her plates and when Jamie looked at her face, she was wearing a wide, sweet smile.

"I've got it. I know exactly what I'm going to give up."

"Oh? Books?" He enquired and watched her move about the kitchen, placing her dirty cutlery into the sink.

"No. Gargantua and Pantagruel. What was that quote Shakespeare would later use?" She turned around to face him and watched him think about it.

"Let's see," he was silent for a moment before it came to him, "AH! _'These two did oftentimes do the two-backed beast together, joyfully rubbing and frotting-"_

He stopped dead when he realised what she meant and the way she was still smiling at him. Though he now could see the hardness in her eyes.

"Yes. IN FACT, instead of limes Jamie, you can give it up with me! No coupling for 40 days and nights."

He'd put his foot in it. He'd actually recalled the last bit of the conversation and realised just what a git he'd been. And he hadn't even meant to.

"Well, I-"

"_And_ you know, you won't have to worry about the lemon tarts getting eaten all up," she gave the 'p' a pop with her lips, sounding more annoyed than before.

"Now, I didn't say that exactly-" he tried to backtrack desperately.

"No, no, it's fine. It's absolutely fine. I get to keep my baths and books and all that food I gorge on and you, your limes," she squinted at him, her anger still high, "and this way, we both give up something we overindulge in. Wouldn't you agree, darling?"

She didn't even let him answer her before she turned around and began to furiously scrub at her dishes and plates, though Jamie could still hear her muttering angrily to herself as she did so.

His food forgotten and now unwanted, he buried his face in his hands.

"Oh, this is going to be a long Lent," he muttered to himself, unsure of how he had dug himself into this mess. And unsure of how he'd dig himself out.

A few days later...

Jamie saw his chance to make amends when he saw his wife struggling with the lacing on the back of her dress. She'd grown so used to lacing them at the front, but this was her only suitable one for cleaning and she was starting to get frustrated. He knew she wouldn't ask for his help, because whilst her anger had cooled, she'd still given him the cold shoulder...when she remembered. He'd been able to hold her in their bed when she was asleep and in the morning before her brain properly woke up, she'd talk with him and cuddle up to him as usual. And then she'd remember and hop out, deeming house chores 'more important than snuggling'.

He stood up, walked over to her, and placed his hands over hers.

"Let me, please."

Abigail looked at him over her shoulder and for a moment, she looked ready to refuse. But she nodded and turned back around, her hands falling away from the messy lacing she'd been messing about with.

Jamie stepped forward and eagerly (and neatly) began to lace her, craving the contact and her scent as she stood with her back to him.

When he had done, he did not step away and she did not turn around.

"Thank you," she said quietly and Jamie grew bolder.

"You're welcome," he closed the distance between them and kissed the side of her neck, "I'd like to apologise. I'm sorry I put my foot in it the other day. I'm an idiot."

He could not see her face, but from what he heard from her breathy exhale, she sounded amused.

"It's alright...I know you didn't mean it."

Seeing that she was not about to argue with him, he slipped his hands over her waist and leaned his chin against her shoulder.

"Am I truly forgiven?"

"Truly," she turned her head slightly, leaning against him affectionately. She felt him pull and guide her about, turning her around until she faced him.

"Then, may I ask for a kiss?"

Abigail couldn't help but smile.

"You may," she reached up and rested her hands on his shoulders, "and I will oblige since you asked so nicely."

When his lips pressed against hers, she let out a contented sigh. Sometimes, the best part about fighting was the making up. Of course, angrily tearing at one another's clothes and rutting against each other had its perks also.

Abigail felt Jamie's tongue run over her lip, asking to be permitted, and whilst it stirred something wonderful in her, she knew if they deepened it they would end up back in bed.

She pulled away reluctantly and bit her lip to stop herself smiling at his pout.

"Come along, husband. We best get on with chores."

"Or," he trailed off and gave her a pointed gesture of his head towards the bed.

Abigail smirked, then remembered what day they had woken up on.

"Jamie...it's the first day of Lent and...well, I know you're sorry, but I think it will be good for us."

Abigail had never seen him look so scandalised and bit down harder on her lip to stop herself laughing at his expression.

"Good?!"

"Beneficial! I mean...we don't lay together every night, but...well, close enough. I'm getting through a lot of tea AND it would save money on that. And it's supposed to be good for married couples to...well, abstain from coupling."

Jamie glared at her.

"What book did you read that in?"

"How do you know I read it?"

"I just do. What one?"

"Can't recall. Why?"

"Because I'll burn it."

Abigail HAD to snort at how childish he sounded.

"Oh, hush. You'll survive, as will I. We managed it for four months."

"That was forced."

"I know, but you know what they say? Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder."

Jamie was silent for a moment before he absorbed properly what she said.

"That's distance."

She thought about it.

"Well, same thing."

"Love," Jamie switched tactics and pressed close to her, giving her his best flirty smile, "it will be difficult, love. None at all? And I mean, especially for you and the way you are when it comes to-"

Abigail pulled back and gaped at him.

"Pardon?! The way I'm what?"

_'Damn you and your big mouth!'_

"I've done it again, haven't I?"

Abigail stepped away from him and nodded.

"Yes. And I think I'll leave you for a bit whilst you dislodge your foot from your mouth."

She walked out of the room, leaving him to wallow in his own foolishness. He knew she was intent on doing Lent and not succumbing to temptations of the flesh. Taking him along with her.

He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and looked to the ceiling.

"I can do this," he reminded himself, remembering those long hard nights apart from Abigail.

He can do this. He can. It's only for 40 days.

7th Day

He can't do this. He really can't.

It's been a week and whilst they've hugged and kissed and held one another as they've slept, that's as far as they've gotten and it's driving him slightly mad.

He watched her get dressed. He caught her multiple times bathing. He's seen the way she leans over, the laces on her dress not tied all the way to the top so her breasts slightly spill out over.

When she climbed up chairs or on the table to scrub the high places with a brush or cloth, her legs on show for him to gaze at. Even the way she ties her hair up in a messy bun or under a linen towel and shows off her deliciously tempting neck.

He's sure she's doing it on purpose.

And the worst thing of all is, he has proof. Twice, she's caught him 'relieving the pressure', once in the bathroom and the other in the bedroom when he thought she was asleep. She just...smiled that insanely sweet smile as if to say, 'I'm winning.'

"Jamie, darling!" She got his attention from her chair as she cleaned the bookcase, "Would you come hold the back of the chair for me? I accidentally got the one with the wobbling leg!"

Jamie, happy to oblige (ever the gentleman), grabbed the chair in both hands and waited for her to continue. It wasn't until she was fully turned from him and stretched on her tiptoes, did he realise he was level with her clothed backside.

She's a horrible cheat. And if she wanted to play dirty...well, two can play at that game.

8th day

"Darling, have you seen-Jamie!" Abigail gasped when she entered the bathroom and found her husband cleaning his face.

His very naked face.

"Have I seen what, dear?" He inquired innocently, gently dabbing at his face with a towel as he approached her. He watched her gape at him for a few moments before she found her voice again.

"I-it's not important," she stared at him and he wasn't sure if she was startled, horrified or a combination of the two, "Jamie, you shaved?!"

He smiled at her and threw the towel over his bare shoulder. He stood in front of her and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yes. Darling, it was getting in the way and itchy. I also thought it'd be good to re-do it. Start afresh. I thought it'd be good for me."

Abigail was stumped. She LOVED his beard, but then...seeing him without it as his old self...it was good. And also made her heart thump erratically seeing him so neat and tidy and very much like as he was all those years ago when they first met.

Slowly, he leaned forward, closing the distance between them. She shut her eyes, tilted her head up, and waited for the expected kiss against her lips...but it never came.

Instead, she felt the most tender, gentle kiss pressed against her forehead. When he pulled back and she opened her eyes, she could see the amusement dancing behind his own.

"Just think. It will be much neater and tidier when I grow it back again."

Without another word, he walked on by and left her alone in the bathroom.

Abigail felt...empty. He'd gone to kiss her, he had, so why had he-

_'Oh...Oh, that crafty git!'_

She fathomed out quickly what he was doing and plotted her next step.

"Jamie Norrington, I'm going to get you. Let the games begin!" She muttered to herself and strode boldly out of the bathroom. The games were truly underway.

15th day

Both quickly discovered how much of a dirty cheat their spouse was when it came to the art of 'flirtation'. Both seemed to enjoy playing with fire, getting close enough to only singe the tips of their fingers.

Jamie had taken to doing his chores with only his trousers and shoes on, purposefully working out in the gardens most days and getting covered in soil and mud. But his worst crime was denying Abigail kisses, only going as far as small but affectionate pecks on her forehead.

Abigail had retaliated spectacularly by walking around the house in only his discarded shirts OR in nothing at all. When he'd questioned her, she'd turned her bare back to him and stated, 'just wanted to dry naturally for a change. It gets rather hot, doesn't it, dear?'

Neither quite knew who was winning at some points, but Jamie was carefully planning out his next steps. She was standing on the chair again, cleaning the top of the bookshelf just as vigorously as normal, but now with her skirts tied up even higher and Jamie could just tell she wasn't wearing any bloomers.

He'd get her when she least expected it. He just had to think about what made her go weak in the knees. Perhaps offer her a massage when she was bathing? No, she'd see right through that and touching her and hearing her moan would probably backfire on him.

He shoved his shovel into the loosened soil and stood back and thought about it. Perhaps he should start walking around naked, just as she had done? Though he had a feeling it might send her into a barrage of giggles.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by her sudden scream and loud clatter. He ran back into the house as fast he could and as expected, found her on the floor with the chair overturned beside her. She was trying to sit up but held one of her hands close to her chest.

"Ow! Ow, ow, ow!" She cried over and over again as Jamie instantly knelt down and checked her over.

"Where does it hurt?" He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her up, but didn't let go of her.

"My wrist," her free hand came up to cradle her sore one and she glared at the overturned kitchen chair as he guided her towards his armchair, "bloody chair-Ow!"

"Come on, sit down," he turned her about, letting her sit as he knelt down in front of her again. This time, he took her hand and arm and pulled it closer to inspect it, making sure he was supporting most of her weight.

"Careful-Ow! It hurts!" She grimaced when he slowly began to turn it from side to side, assessing the damage.

"Shh, I know, I know," he soothed her as he moved his fingers over her arm, checking for swelling or signs of broken bones. He instructed her to stretch and clench her fingers, turn her wrist one way and then the other and finally, prodded around the sore area with his thumb.

Satisfied with his silent evaluation, he placed her hand in her lap and stood.

"Stay here," he quickly made his way into the kitchen and towards the barrel where they kept the meats. He plucked out a piece of steak that HAD been intended for tomorrow night's dinner and quickly wiped off the majority of the salt, hoping it would still do.

He came back over, knelt in front of her and wrapped it around her wrist as he explained, "Good news is, it's not broken or anything serious. You've just bruised your wrist."

"Well...tell me honestly...will I be able to play the harp again-ow!" Her joke was ruined when she lifted her wrist and turned it the wrong way.

"I'm afraid not. And don't worry the pain will fade. Just hold that stake there to bring out the bruising," he made to move away from her, placing his hands on her knees to push himself up, "I'll run to town and get some ice from the Cornell's Icehouse."

Abigail shook her head and placed her good hand over one of his.

"No, it's alright, don't waste the money," she sighed and wiggled her fingers, testing how it felt, "I'm just being dramatic."

"You're in pain-"

"And you said it will fade-"

"_And_ I'm saying I don't like seeing my wife in pain-"

"Then kiss it better!" Abigail couldn't help but laugh at the little banter, knowing she'd win the fight.

His smile did, however, cause a deep blush to spread over her cheeks and he lifted her hand again to place one tender kiss against her knuckles.

"Better?"

Abigail pouted.

"Well...when I fell, I hurt a few other places," she said innocently, but Jamie could tell she was just wanting more kisses. But somehow, he clean forgot his own rule.

"Oh?" He enquired and watched her as she reached down and pointed to her knee.

He bent low and placed another, small tender kiss.

And when she pointed to her forehead, he repeated his action.

When her fingers came to her lips, he would have made it a quick peck, but as his lips landed on hers, her lips caught his and he couldn't pull away even if he wanted to.

That same, strong desire filled them both as they let their kiss lead them away from reality. Without meaning to, they both responded automatically when their tongues connected. Abigail's legs parted and allowed him to kneel straight between her legs, his hands snaking over her clothed hips to pull her close.

It was only when Jamie accidentally crushed her hand between them and Abigail hissed in pain during the kiss did he pull away and hold her a lot more gently.

"Sorry...sorry, are you all right?" He breathlessly asked, looking down at her wrist, lifting the meat to see if the bruising had come out yet.

She nodded at him and used her good hand to reach up and stroke his cheek.

"I'm all right, it's my fault. Got carried away."

"I think we both did," he chuckled, and seeing she was all right, moved his own hands to hold her face and neck.

Abigail couldn't help but smile at how loving and affectionate he was, even in the midst of a 'war'.

"Thank you...you're good to me."

"You deserve only the best," and he was truthful. He believed that if he could give it to her, he'd shower her with whatever it was she needed.

Seeing the meat wasn't doing anything, he took it off her wrist and she tentatively turned it.

"You were right, the pain is fading," she still grimaced when she turned it the wrong way but appeared to be a lot more comfortable.

"I'll put this back."

He stood up, intending on putting the steak straight back in the barrel, but her sharp gasp and the sudden way she turned away caught his attention.

"Oh...you um...you," she cleared her throat and pointed to the front of his trousers. He looked down and saw his evident problem, caused by the close proximity they had shared only a few moments ago.

"Oh, well," trying to salvage what dignity he could, he tossed the slab of meat onto the table and cleared his throat to say, "I'll be upstairs. If you need me, just...well, shout."

Turning away from her and walking up the stairs would have gone well, had he not had to yell behind him, "Stop laughing, it's not funny!"

Abigail's response was another little giggle that she tried to smother with her good hand.

When he was out of earshot and had slammed the door behind him, she let out her amusement and looked down at her wrist. She had not intended to fall and hurt herself, but surprisingly, despite the pain, it had turned out well.

One point to her. One to Jamie.

24th day

"So...what exactly are the terms?"

Arms slipped around Abigail's waist and turned her about. She gazed into her husband's eyes and instantly felt worried at the mischievous gleam she saw.

"What terms?" She asked curiously, her hands coming up to the front of his shirt he had decided to wear and holding on as he leaned over her, his hands slipping to the table behind her to support himself.

"The terms of this...prolonged celibacy."

"NOW you ask?" Abigail rolled her eyes, wondering how it had taken him so long.

"Well, I've established I can kiss you and hold you in my arms as we sleep...but what about other things?"

She suddenly felt very trapped against him. She was caught between the table and...a hard place.

"What-what exactly were you thinking?" She gulped, trying to remain calm.

"Well...am I permitted to touch you or you, I?"

"Just...touch? Where, exactly?"

Jamie lent close to her ear, though she didn't know why he began to whisper (especially when it elicited a sudden breathy gasp from her) in hushed tones, "Well, if you have your legs spread to me, am I permitted to pleasure you with my tongue?"

A shot of pleasure sparked through her, warmth flooding her stomach as she imagined it. Stretched out on the kitchen table, her skirts and apron pulled up to her chin. Her moans and cries filling the small house as he sucked and licked her to ecstasy.

She mentally slapped herself and reined in her growing pleasure.

"Well-I...I don't think that'd be a very good idea. We all know where it leads to...," she drifted off, desperately trying not to think of the images her mind was producing.

"Not necessarily. Wasn't it at this very kitchen table you took me in your mouth and...'apologised' to me?"

Abigail felt herself growing hotter at the memory of taking him in her mouth. The way he had held onto her hair. His cry when he had come and the way he gasped as she swallowed what she could.

"No-no that was the stove," her brain tried to see the logic, dispelling the power his words seemed to have on her.

"Oh? You know, I believe you're right."

His hands returned to her waist and Abigail shrieked when she was suddenly pulled and whirled around the room as if she was waltzing. She could only grab onto him and wait for the dizzying, exhilarating feeling to stop. She shut her eyes tight and waited and when her feet finally stopped moving, her back pressed against a solid surface and Jamie held her, she opened them again.

Seeing the slight change in her view, she knew he had her pressed up against the (thankfully) cold stove. He pressed flush against her, grabbing her skirt and clenching fabric in his grasp.

"Jamie," she let out a breathless gasp when the hunger flashed in his eyes and she wondered if he'd throw her down and take her then and there on the kitchen floor. She secretly hoped he would.

"What about where I can touch you? Tell me," the tip of his nose brushed ever so lightly against hers and sent chills through her body.

"I..I-I," she opened and closed her mouth a couple of times and found that she couldn't actually get her words out.

He chuckled and decided to help her.

"I know I can kiss you here," a hand came up and the tip of his fingers pressed against her bottom lip, before slowly trailing down and over her chin, "what about...here?"

His hand stopped at the pulse point of her neck and she trembled against him. She nodded, wanting nothing more than for him to do just that, but he stayed standing straight as his hand continued to wander down.

He stopped between the valley of her breasts and licked his lips.

"Here?"

Again, she nodded, hoping he couldn't feel her heart beat wildly in her chest.

"How?"

"How-how what?"

"How may I kiss you here?" His other hand came up and she felt him tug at the lacing at the front of her dress, "Would you like me to demonstrate what I mean?"

She shut her mouth to stop it hanging open and nodded, unable to get anything out as she just watched him.

Her hands moved behind her and she gripped either side of the stove for support.

He made quick work of her bodice laces and tugged it loose enough so her breasts were unrestrained, only the thin material of her tunic protecting her modesty, though she felt how hard her own nipples were as they brushed against the material.

Finally, Jamie ducked his head low and placed a gentle, tender kiss at the top of her breasts.

"Is this permitted?"

Abigail nodded and tried to control her breathing as her chest rose and fell, his slightly stubbly chin coming into contact with her smooth skin.

"Good. Well then," his eyes never left hers as his fingers hooked into her tunic and pulled it low enough to slip both hands inside.

"Jamie-" she let out a strangled cry when his hands cupped her breasts and lifted them out of the material, letting them rest atop her bodice.

"You have to tell me. Will you permit me to show you, more?"

Abigail whimpered when his hands slowly began to knead each of her breasts and she shut her eyes and threw her head back as his thumbs rolled over her pebbled nipples.

"Watch me, love. Tell me."

She lowered her head back down and opened hungry eyes as she did as he asked.

"How am I permitted to kiss you...like this? "

Leaning forward again, he placed the same gentle, closed-mouth kisses over both her breasts and nipples. Her legs were beginning to turn to jelly and she leaned back against the stove for more support.

"Yes...love, yes," she whimpered when he stopped, but still unsure of just how much pleasure she could actually take.

"Then what about...more than kissing?"

"More?"

He smirked at her and she could have hit him, had she been able to let go of the stove.

"Like this."

Finally, when he leaned forward again, he pressed hot, wet kisses to her skin. He gently bit and suckled her and when his mouth closed over her nipples and gave them the same attention, she cried out before she could stop herself and pressed up against him.

"Love!" She protested when he stopped and stood up straight. His hands never left her breasts and continued to rub and knead her and she could have very well climaxed from that attention alone.

"Is that permitted?" He asked in a husky voice, trying not to let it show the effect she was having on him.

"Yes," she wasn't sure how she was still speaking when he was touching her like this. She was going to go mad, he was actually driving her to insanity!

"Excellent."

The next minute, his hands tucked her breasts back into her tunic and before she knew it, he was redressing her and lacing her up again.

"I'm glad we've set the boundaries and I know now."

When his hands had finished with her lacing, they slipped back around her waist and gently squeezed.

"So...do you have any terms to discuss? Because," he leaned in so close, his lips almost touched hers, "I will permit you to touch or kiss me anywhere, anytime and however you like."

Abigail groaned and broke the distance between them, crushing their mouths together in a hungry kiss. Her hands left the stove and grabbed hold of his shirt and the back of his head, keeping him in place.

He kept up with her pace, his hands wounding around her back and his nails digging into the exposed skin just above her tunic.

When finally, she began to feel lightheaded and pulled away, taking in great gulps of air, more from excitement than breathlessness, Jamie stepped back and smiled at her.

What was he-

"Bedtime. I'll meet you upstairs," he turned from her quickly and marched away.

_'Oh...you bastard.'_

"Don't forget to change the oil in the lamp, love," he called to her one last time before he practically skipped up the stairs, almost joyful as he went.

His footsteps sounded above her head and she heard the faint sound of the door closing behind him.

Oh God, she was going to kill him. Or he was going to be the death of her.

But, regardless of who would drop dead first, Abigail knew there was something important to tend to now that her husband had gone.

How he made her feel...the definite heat and throbbing between her legs that needed attending to.

Knowing that she wouldn't even make it upstairs and desperate to touch herself now, she hurried to his armchair, gathered up her skirts, and sat down.

One hand slipped underneath the heavy fabric and touching her hot, wet skin, she eagerly began to tease and play with herself. She shut her eyes and remembered the way he had looked at her. The way his hands had stroked her. The feeling of his mouth against her nipple.

It didn't take long for her to reach the end and grabbing onto the back of the armchair with one hand and biting her lip to stop herself crying too loudly, she rubbed at her clit furiously and made herself come thinking of her husband.

She didn't know that Jamie was upstairs in their bedroom, his hands inside loosened trousers and pumping his hard cock as he sat on their bed. She didn't know he came thinking about her at that very moment.

Whoever had been keeping count of the game, needn't have bothered. They were both too far gone to care.

39th day

In this quiet little country house that had once looked ready to be demolished, everything was done. All the repairs had been done, the house practically sparkled it was so clean and the new furniture that had been brought in to various rooms finally made it feel like a proper house.

Abigail had created and tried out various new dishes, some hitting the mark and others...not so much. Particularly the fish and leek pie.

Jamie had finally gotten his own writing desk and chair and began to write down anything that came to his head. Events of the day, his childhood, letters to former comrades. And that was how he'd started his memoirs.

His wife, who had snuck into the other room to clean one of the windows, had peeked over his shoulder and found him scribbling away with his new pen quill.

She couldn't QUITE understand why he was writing it so early in life.

"Jamie...you're not even 35 yet...or are you?" She suddenly panicked at the thought she'd both forgotten his birthday AND his age.

He turned to look at her with amused eyes and smirked.

"No, you didn't miss it yet."

She let out a sigh of relief.

"Phew. Good."

He turned back to his work and waiting for the pages to dry, placed his quill in the ink holder, and was just straightening the pile of papers beside him when he felt her press a kiss to the side of his head.

"Are you alright?" He reached one hand behind him to hold her by the back of her head and turned to look at her.

"Mmm. Just being nosy."

"Oh...well, come closer and be nosy."

He pulled her around and into his arms, sitting her on his lap. Her head automatically rested against the side of his and she placed a tender kiss to the side of his throat.

"I love you," she sighed, content in his arms.

"I love you. More than anything," his head moved and despite the slightly awkward positioning, managed to press a kiss against the top of her head before she pulled back and looked him in the eye.

"We have a home. We have each other," her hand came up to stroke the new beard he was growing in and smiled, "and we have our health. Jamie...I'm very happy."

"Really?"

"Yes. YOU make me happy."

When their lips pressed against one another, they both felt a slight stirring that they had gotten used to. But it was suppressed by the overwhelming feelings of love and happiness.

Later that night...

Jamie was finishing up in the bathroom and instead of cleaning up properly, placed everything on the chair in the corner and decided to come back early the next morning and sort it out. He was lost in thought as he walked out of the bathroom, which is why he was a lot slower and quiet when he approached his open bedroom door.

The sounds reached his ears before he saw her. Her tiny, quiet moans and whimpers. He peered in through the one-inch opening and felt his desire rise at the sight that greeted him.

Abigail had gone to bed before him, an hour before, but instead of being asleep, she was lying beneath the covers and...he could tell what she was doing, even if he couldn't see her hands. The way her legs were bent and spread. The way her hips wiggled and jerked ever so slightly. The way she bit her lip as she tried to stop the noises escaping her.

He watched her and felt his cock twitch at the sight. Her whimpers grew closer together and he knew she wouldn't last long. That she would reach the end, stifle her cry and then, pretend it never happened. Go to sleep and have him crawl in beside her, none the wiser at what she had just done.

He wasn't having that.

He pushed open the door slowly and stepped inside. It was his foot coming down and his weight on the floorboard that always creaked when you stepped on it that alerted her to him.

She startled and stopped, her breath catching in her throat.

"Don't stop," he carried on walking towards her, his own heart beating wildly, "Love. Don't stop."

"What?" He saw her shift ever so slightly beneath the blankets, but instead of climbing into bed, he moved to the bottom of it and sat at her feet.

He tugged off the covers swiftly, barely giving Abigail any time to quickly adjust her nightdress that she'd pulled up to her stomach, her hands shielding herself from his view. She had been caught and felt embarrassment spreading over her, ready for his teasing.

"No, please don't look-" her breath caught in her throat again when he suddenly moved in between her legs and grabbed her hands.

"I want to watch you," he slowly pulled them away and she let go of the fabric of her nightdress as he settled them over her hips.

His hands released hers and slowly trailed down, over her thighs, knees, and ankles, before moving slowly back up again.

"You've teased me for weeks but this is how you've been coping...by doing the same thing," he gave her a humorless laugh, his voice shaking with restrained desire.

Abigail's hands gripped into the fabric of her nightdress again, still unsure of whether she should do this. He's always touched her and she'd only shown him once, the night of their reunion, but still...it was very embarrassing for her.

Seeing her evident shyness, he gripped her thighs and pushed them apart.

"You nightdress. Pull it up. But don't take it off."

Abigail quivered at the command in his voice and found she was under his spell. Her hands did as he bade her and she pulled her nightdress up to her stomach again, moaning at the cold air that hit her.

"More."

Exposing slowly, she arched her back slightly when she pulled her dress up and over her breasts. She couldn't help but moan at the way he looked at her. At the way, she knew he wanted her.

"Now touch yourself. Show me."

Urged on by his commands, her hands let go of her nightdress, wandered back down her body and shakily, stroked over the heated flesh between her legs.

She bit down on her bottom lip as her fingers returned to rubbing and stroking, slipping over her wet skin.

"No need to hide your noises," his eyes never left her hands and she released her lip, letting her fingers dip inside of her entrance, before slowly slipping back out.

She cried out and began to tease herself as he watched her, his own hands still moving over her legs, his nails occasionally scraping against her sensitive skin.

"Oh, Love."

She shuddered at his voice, his husky tones sending shivers down her spine.

"Are you close? Love, tell me."

"Ye-yes," she replied breathlessly and shut her eyes as she began to speed up. His grip on her tightened and he growled, "Look at me. Look at me, love. I want to see you."

The sound almost sent her over and her hips arched up off the bed as she cried out.

"Oh, God!" Her eyes remained shut as her thoughts flooded with only pleasure, "God, please, Jamie don't ask me to do that! Please-please stop talking!"

"Is it too much love?" He chuckled and she could have kicked him, had she been thinking clearly.

"Yes!" Her fingers began to ache as she tried to reach deeper and deeper inside of herself.

Suddenly, his hands grabbed her again and pulled them away, putting a stopper on her orgasm.

"No!" She whined and looked down at him, "Jamie, please!"

She didn't know why he was stopping her from reaching the peak of pleasure, but he moved suddenly and grabbed her hips. She yelped when he pulled and lifted her onto his lap, her legs still open and spread to him.

He hooked her legs over his shoulders and held her up. Despite the small, embarrassed part of her that wanted to hide, she also felt a jolt of lust run through her when he pulled her closer to his face and his mouth suddenly closed over her.

She cried out and gripped the bedsheets as he sucked and licked her clit. Somehow, he managed to get a hand free and reaching around, pressing two fingers inside of her and began to thrust earnestly.

It didn't take long before Abigail screamed his name as her orgasm wracked her body. But even then, he didn't let out. He continued to lick and suck at her, causing her hips to buck and try to wiggle free.

She felt tears sliding down the side of her head, the pleasure too much for her.

"Love, please! Stop, please!" She begged him and thankfully, his mouth and fingers left her.

Her mind was fuzzy, but she felt her hips lowered to the bed and hadn't realised she'd shut her eyes to calm herself. She opened them again when he laid himself over her and his face was level with hers, worry etched on his features.

"Did I hurt you? Are you-"

Before he could apologise or worry anymore, she grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down into a bruising, hungry kiss. Jamie, knowing that he hadn't hurt her, eagerly let her take control as she kissed him. His hips pressed down against her sensitive flesh and she knew she needed him.

Now.

Her mouth never left his as her hands wandered down and eagerly slipped down the back of his pajama trousers. Her hands greedily moved over his buttocks and she pushed the fabric down below them. Moving her hands slowly to the front, she avoided touching him with her hands as she freed his erection, instead, pushing her hips up so his cock brushed against her.

He pulled away and groaned in pleasure, but he still managed to sort his thoughts out. He still managed to maintain his manners.

"Love...love, are you sure?" He pressed his forehead to hers and wondered where on earth this new self-control was coming from.

She nodded, almost frantically underneath him and ground her hips against his again.

"Jamie...take me or I'll throw you off this bed and ride you myself."

Jamie was sorely tempted to let her do just that. But he needed her. Now.

"I'll let you take me next time," his mouth claimed hers again, his tongue slipping against hers as he began to shift them.

Without breaking the kiss, he looped his arms around her back and managed to pull her up and against him. He knelt back and settled on the balls of his feet and helped her kneel over him.

He felt himself slide against her, the pressure and intensity almost taking over.

He pulled his mouth from hers and settled his hands on either of her buttocks.

"But for now...together?"

"God, yes!" She cried out and reached between them, wrapping her fingers around him. She pushed the head of his cock against her entrance and let her fingers fall away as he rolled his hips and filled her.

Her head fell back with a strangled cry and her hands moved to his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh.

40 days. Of teasing. Of Torture. Of touching themselves but not one another.

As he rolled his hips again, keeping himself inside of her, she knew neither would last long. She could already feel another orgasm building up inside of her and she wanted it. She wanted him and she only hoped he would last just a little longer.

She managed to get herself moving on him, her head coming back down to watch him. His half-lidded eyes. The way his lips parted to let out hearty moans. The strong jaw she could see tense with his determination to hold on. Just for a little bit.

She came undone quickly, her head falling to his shoulder as she cried out his name. His teeth sank into the tender flesh of her neck and that was it. She held onto him as she came, her hips losing the rhythm as she rode out her orgasm.

After a few, shaky breaths and feeling him moving towards his own release, she managed to move her hips again.

Her head moved away from his shoulder and she looked into his face. The restraint. The overwhelming desire to let go. The need he felt to prolong what he was feeling.

Awkward though it was with the slightly jolted movements, Abigail placed her forehead against his and managed to land small, desperate little kisses against his lips.

"Jamie. Jamie, love. Let go. Let go, for me. Love."

When her lips pressed against his one final time, he groaned loudly and she managed to keep her eyes open and on him. His face contorted into one of sheer pleasure. She felt him inside of her and the way his hands tightened on either of her cheeks, holding her in place.

When at last, satiated and exhausted, he managed to focus his eyes back on hers, he gave her a lazy, happy smile.

"God...I love you."

"I am very flattered by your declaration," she giggled at his slightly puzzled expression, "but I know it's not your head your saying those words with."

"Oh, but it is my head," he grinned back and they both laughed at the double innuendo.

When their laughter had died down and they lay against one another in a tangled mess, Abigail sighed sadly.

"What's wrong, Love?"

She cuddled closer to him.

"We didn't make it. We gave into temptation on the last day."

Jamie was silent for a moment as he thought about it, but remembered one VERY important detail.

"Actually, I think you'll find we did technically," he raised his head slightly to look at her, "we DID go 40 days without being together. I sort of put my foot in it, if you remember correctly."

"But-...oh. OH, you're right," she smiled joyfully and placed a kiss against his cheek, "well done, my clever husband. We did!"

"Mmm. Abigail?"

"Yes, darling?" She felt his grip tighten on her and he said in warning tones.

"We're never doing that again."

The sounds of Abigail's amused giggles were quickly followed by her shrieks of excitement as Jamie rolled her underneath him and showed her exactly how serious he had been about those words.


	12. Stockings

Stockings

When Jamie walked into his home through the backdoor, he was pleasantly surprised to find that his wife had returned from her shopping trip. He was also surprised to find not only her basket full, but a small, brown package clutched to her chest in her other hand.

"I didn't hear you come in," Jamie walked around the table towards her and grabbed the basket, "I would have come to help sooner."

"I'm fine," she reached up to kiss him tenderly as she let him take her basket, "it's not heavy and they didn't have much today. How is the fence looking?"

"New, clean and freshly painted," he noticed the package again and nodded towards it, "new book?"

Abigail hesitated to answer and when he looked back at her, she stuck her chin out defiantly, though he wasn't sure why.

"No, it's...private."

"Private?" Jamie's curiosity got the better of him, "So I'm...not to know what it is?"

"I shan't tell and you're not to go poking around in my personal business!"

Despite her brave and slightly odd behaviour, he saw a strange...pinkness over her cheeks. As though she was embarrassed about what she bought.

When she went up the stairs, he silently followed a few seconds after and decided to sneak a little peek.

He watched her as she quickly stuck and hid the parcel in their trunk, covering it over with a shirt. But she had no need to do this. If it was her business, Jamie would not pry. But it didn't stop him teasing her about it for days on end.

He slightly enjoyed the red blush that swept over her when he prodded her for information about it. The quick change in subject. The rise in her voice if he tried to guess what it was. So far, he had deduced it wasn't a book of any kind, nor ribbons or even a birthday present for him. But it WAS an item of clothing. He just didn't know what kind, because as soon as he'd guessed that, she'd thrown a pillow at him and he'd gotten distracted when he wrestled her on the bed.

The thought had clean flew out of his head the next day and he would probably have not remembered to question her on it anymore, had he not left the house without his money pouch on the way to town. He doubled back and remembering Abigail's habit for doing the laundry, did not announce himself back home.

He'd walked up the stairs, gone to his bedroom door...and found it open, with an occupant inside in a very unusual position. With her want to change the furniture around, Abigail had pushed the bed up against the opposite wall by the headboard and the bottom was facing the door. She was laying on her back on the bed, with her skirts pulled to her hips and her legs in the air. Jamie watched, quietly and very amused as she wiggled her toes, crossed her ankles over the other and rubbed her thighs together. It didn't escape his notice that she was, in fact, admiring the stockings she was wearing. Stockings that were clean and never been worn before. At least, not around him.

"Well then," Jamie decided to announce his presence by stepping a little loudly on the creaking floorboard. Abigail startled, dropped her legs and quickly hurried to sit herself up. She swivelled around, sat at an awkward angle and pulled her skirts down over her legs.

"I-I thought you were out?!" She gulped and took deep breaths to steady her beating heart.

Like a predator approaching his prey, Jamie walked until he was at the end of the bed and stared down at her, a large smile on his face.

"I was. And now I'm back and wondering what my wife is hiding from me under all these skirts," he sat down by her, but she attempted to shuffle away, blushing and shaking her head.

"Nothing!" She even sounded guilty.

"Oh?" Just before she could shuffle herself all the way to the top of the bed, Jamie reached out and grabbed her hips through her skirts.

She shrieked when he pulled her roughly back to him and toppled over until her back hit the bed again. She swatted at his hands when they pulled at the fabric of her skirt, but it was too late.

His hands pushed up her skirts and landed on her legs. She froze as his grip changed and slowly, he moved his fingers up and down.

"Well, well, well," he smiled and lifted her legs so they were over his lap. He looked away from her and she just knew he had discovered her secret.

"It's nothing, really-" she tried to protest but bit her lip when he turned back to her with an arched brow.

"These are VERY fine stockings."

Abigail pouted.

"Oh...fine, you bloody caught me!" She folded her arms across her chest and tried not to look embarrassed, "Go ahead and laugh and get it over with."

"Laugh? Why would I laugh?" Jamie was genuinely wondering what on earth made her think he'd make fun of her for a simple pair of stockings.

"Well...it would be an 'I told you so'...remember?" By the look on his face, he obviously didn't remember, "I told you...I don't need all that pretty stuff. But," she trailed off and bit her lip, her embarrassment rising again.

"What?"

"I don't need it. But...that doesn't mean we can't treat ourselves once in a while. And I just-I just," she mumbled the last bit, though he heard her clear as day, "I really wanted some stockings like the ladies were talking about in the shop."

Jamie finally caught on. She thought he'd be mad at her for treating herself? Never. For him, he wanted her to spend all her money on only her. He, in fact, wanted to treat her more.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"Don't feel guilty for a little luxury."

"They WERE a little expensive though. I spent all my dessert budget for the weekend on them."

"Hmm... Let me see."

Straightening back up, he shifted both her legs in his hands and raised them up. Abigail couldn't help but giggle when he gently manhandled them so they were both pressed against one shoulder and one arm. Each hand seemed to be conducting a quick inspection. One wrapped around her thigh and drew small circles with his nails, tickling her when he went over a certain spot. The other trailed up and down either of her shins.

"It's just the other ladies...they were saying how their stockings weren't really for them," Abigail blushed when he looked down at her and she could see the familiar flare of desire in his eyes, "one of them was very...blunt about how her husband feels about them. They said it was to stop them from getting bored."

Jamie could only arch his brow.

"So...how do you feel about them?" She pried, wanting to know if she had done the right thing in buying them.

Jamie's first response was to shift her legs again, this time placing both either side of his hips as he leaned forward, this time, pressing himself down against her.

"Truthfully?"

As his hips pressed against hers, she gasped at the wonderful pressure, the sparks lighting up inside of her at his close proximity.

"I prefer you without any clothes at all."

Before she could even laugh, his lips caught hers in a hungry kiss and it was all she could do to hold onto the sheets either side of her head, just letting him devour her.

She was surprised when he stopped and pulled away again, thinking he'd want to continue, but he now seemed terribly distracted.

"HOWEVER," his hand stroked over her thigh and to the top of her stockings before moving over her bare skin again, "I could make an exception for these.."

"Oh?"

He moved quickly and pulled her up and against him, his lips capturing hers as he shifted them about. He now sat on the bed, his legs over the side as Abigail straddled him and she wasn't about to complain one bit.

He pulled back again, both his hands rubbing and squeezing her thighs.

"Yes, but I'm going to need a completely unbiased opinion," he sighed, feigning frustration at his task, "well, there's only one thing for it, you'll have to remove your clothes."

He'd said it so deadpan, that Abigail couldn't help but laugh.

"Jamie!"

"No, I'm afraid I'll have to conduct a very good judgment and thorough inspection and the only way I'll know is if there's nothing else distracting me."

Despite seeing straight through his plan, Abigail decided to play along. Slowly, she crawled off of his lap and stood in between his legs. Slowly, she removed all her outer clothes, just enjoying watching his hungry gaze on her as he restrained himself from reaching out and touching her. She could tell, just by the way his hands splayed flat on the sheets.

When at last, she thought she was fit in just her stockings and tunic, she opened her hands out for inspection.

He shook his head.

"No darling, I'm afraid that will have to go also. It's imperative to the assessment."

Abigail pretended to look at him as though she were suspicious of his actions.

"I have a feeling you're not taking this very seriously."

"Oh, contraire, my lovely wife," he finally reached out and grabbed her shirt, pulling her closer to him, "this is the most serious judgment I've ever had to undertake."

She hid her inelegant snort by pulling the shirt out of his grip and tugging it off and over her head. She cast it aside with the rest of her clothes and looked down at him, suddenly feeling...incredibly hot.

"Well?"

"Hmm...give me your leg."

She obliged him again and carefully, he helped her raise it so her foot was planted next to his hip and her knee was bent. Despite suddenly feeling very exposed, he did miraculously keep his eyes on her leg. His hand smoothed over the fabric, up and down, around the back and side, and even under her knee.

He actually made all the right noises for 'inspection'.

"Yes. I believe this is quite satisfactory."

"Oh? So your official opinion is?"

He reached out and instead of pulling her by her hips, he grabbed her wrists and urged her forward. She straddled his lap again, this time on her knees so his arms came about her waist and his chin could rest on the swell of one of her breasts.

"Whether you're clad in silk stockings, lace dresses, or nothing at all," he pressed a tender kiss over her heart before he looked straight up at her, "you're worth it. Your worth in money is immeasurable. AND, regarding getting bored," his hands suddenly came to cup her buttocks and pulled her against him, "it will never happen."

As her arms wrapped around his neck and she looked down at him, she knew he was sincere in his words. Even though he could not know the future or how things would change, he truly believed he would never tired of her.

"Well... I'm glad you like the silk stockings. Shall we take them off now?" She asked innocently, but even before his hand came up to the back of her head to pull her into a kiss, she could tell what his reply would be.

"No, no...leave them on."


	13. How to say Goodbye

How to say goodbye

"I'm home! Hello-...Jamie, are you cooking?" Abigail wandered in from the back door and dropped the empty basket on the counter side, just watching as her husband shuffled about the stove. She wouldn't have guessed what he was doing, but there was an... interesting smell in the kitchen. He turned to her and clasped in both his hands (with the thick kitchen towel to stop him burning himself) was a pretty little pie, slightly singed around the edges.

He smiled, a little sheepishly at her.

"Well...I tried. It's only chicken and artichoke, but...well, I may have forgotten about it."

Abigail's heart did a strange flutter in her chest. She enjoyed it when Jamie took on the chores she herself would do and when he cooked...it was perhaps the most adorable moment for her to experience. Even if they didn't always come out perfect.

"Well, that sounds...not as bad as Lamb, asparagus and pigeon pie."

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"No," she broke the distance between them and kissed him on the corner of his mouth, "let's eat then. I'm starving."

"Did you not eat at the Meyers?" Jamie placed the pie in its bowl in the center of the table, ensuring it was right on the trivet so he didn't leave a scorch mark on the wood. Again.

"No, I'm pleased to say the little ones scoffed the lot," Abigail threw her cloak over the back of the door and turned about to help him prepare the cutlery, "I've never seen children eat so quickly and so much. They even liked the vegetables!"

Jamie couldn't help but smile at the wistful smile on his wife's face. After discovering that the house farther down the track was inhabited by a family whose husband and father had recently passed and were in need of both money and food, Abigail had immediately begun to visit them every few days, bearing what food she could bring. The mother spoke broken English, but one of the children was fluent and had insisted that whilst they wouldn't take her money, the food and company were appreciated. Abigail would tell Jamie stories of playing with the children to distract them, reading, and helping them learn to read. She'd even taken to helping with the newborn whilst the mother went out and searched for work for herself and her elder children.

When she was close enough, he wrapped one arm around her waist and placed a kiss on the top of her head.

"You're too good for this world."

"Oh, hush," Abigail blushed and playfully batted him away, "you'd be nice to if you came with me to meet them. They all have angel faces and the baby, oh!" She swooned, remembering how cute the baby had been in her arms, "She's sick at the moment, but her little face when she sleeps!"

"She's still not well?"

"The damn grip. I hoped it would clear up soon, but poor little love...luckily, Gilda is very good at making homemade medicines."

"No doctor?"

Abigail arched her brow at him and took her seat.

"They can't really afford it, can they?" She took up the jug of water and poured herself a large cup.

"I mean, one would always hope a mysterious and anonymous well-wisher would help out?" He took the seat opposite her and winked, hoping she got it.

She raised her glass and smirked at him.

"Jamie, sometimes I wonder if I married you for your brain or your heart."

"Not my exceedingly good looks?"

"Shh."

It didn't escape his notice when she winced as she finished her drink, putting her cup down and refilling it instantly.

"Do you still have that sore throat?" He reached over and took her hand, concerned that it still persisted, despite her assurance she was better.

With a sigh, she nodded.

"I thought it was getting better with the headaches, but alas," she took a quick mouthful of water again before continuing, "perhaps it's the flu? There has been that summer bug traveling around town. Don't come to close to me, heaven forbid you get it."

"I can handle the flu," he squared his shoulders as if to prove a point, but dropped them when she snorted at him.

"No you can't, you can't even handle being hungover that well," the back of her hand came up to her forehead and she lowered her voice, mimicking him perfectly, "Oh...oh woe is me. Abigail? Is that you? It's so dark in here, my darling."

Jamie could only glare at her.

"I didn't know there was a cold compress on my face," he grumbled, before smiling with her, despite trying to appear stern, "and if you have got the flu, then I'll probably get it any minute considering we've been sharing a bed every night. But I still think you should go and see the doctor?"

She waved him off, her hands going straight to the knife and cutting into the pie.

"I'm far too busy to see him. I'll go when my legs drop off."

Jamie could only roll his eyes, knowing she was being stubborn and really wouldn't go until she was desperate.

But then, he hoped it wouldn't come to that point. After all, she'd been reassuring him she felt much better than she had been.

The next morning...

When Abigail woke up, she felt as though someone had picked her up and swung her entire body against the wall. Everything hurt. The headache had returned, there was a strange pressure around her nose and eyes from the pain, and her throat...God, she'd never known such pain before!

It took her ten minutes to stand up and sort out her clothing for the day and even longer to actually get dressed. She didn't know where Jamie was, but she was glad he wasn't here to watch her. If the pain continued...today would not be an easy day.

Her lacing was not tightened properly, but pulling her bodice anymore just made her want to cry out in pain. And then, the dizzy spells began when she tried to walk. She clung onto the side of the bed and steadied herself. The simplest task now seemed almost impossible for her to complete. Walking out of her bedroom and down the stairs.

Her hands were cold. But when she pressed them against the metal bed frame, she knew her body was hot. Everything seemed to be playing tricks on her.

Going down the stairs was pure torture. Each creak of the step beneath her actually made her cringe and wince, though she was glad Jamie could not see her. When she reached the last step, she pretended to check over her clothing as she steadied herself on the floor.

"I'll make breakfast for you," she gave a small smile, though avoided looking at him for too long as it hurt too much, "or have you already eaten?"

What was she saying? How could she cook for him when she could barely move? How was she going to get anything down today when she felt like she'd been buried deep beneath the bottom of the sea?!

She went by him and grabbed the jug on the table. She had a terrible thirst, but as soon as the cool water hit her throat, it sent a wave of agony through her. Even sipping it hurt.

Despite her best efforts to hide it, Jamie had already seen it. In the way, she walked. In her shaky, hoarse voice. Her pale complexion.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her about to face him and caught her just in time as she seemed unable to stop herself moving and would surely have fallen on the floor.

"Easy, Love. Easy," he felt her hands snake over his shoulders as she struggled to hold herself up.

She looked up at him, her eyes swimming as she tried to focus on his face.

"Jamie," she tried to steady her vision as even his image began to dance before her, "I feel so...strange."

Jamie had been ready to order her upstairs if she protested and said she was alright. But just those vulnerable little words...that was as close to her getting to admit she was unwell as they'd get.

Slowly, he helped her move until she seemed able to walk again by herself.

"Bed, my love. I'll be back soon," he placed a kiss to the top of her head as she began to walk back towards the stairs, "go rest. I'll come back and run you a bath."

If going down the stairs had been torture, trying to clamber up them with dignity was hell. But she managed it. She grit her teeth and went faster up the stairs, trying to get it over and done with quicker. The idea of a bath didn't sound appealing when she didn't know if she wanted or needed a hot one.

Finally, in the privacy of their bedroom, she began the slow process of removing her clothes again, trying to stop herself fainting on the spot. She put on her nightdress and lying her clothes out on the trunk, encase she felt better, clambered back into the bed.

But she did not sleep. She couldn't. The pain going through her was so immense. She was exhausted and yet heard everything loud and clear. The birds outside. Jamie leaving the house to go into town and get some supplies. The creak of the house as her mind began to play tricks on her.

She hadn't been lying down long when a horrid pull started in her stomach. Something that was stronger than the pain, but only for a moment. A burst of adrenaline shot through her and she got out of bed and hurried to the bathroom, stumbling all the way. She collapsed on the floor and had _just_ enough time to grab the chamber pot and pull her hair out of the way before she vomited.

The force of the vomiting literally pulled her entire body tight, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. She felt like she was dying as her body expelled what water she had drunk until she could only dry heave.

"Oh god...Oh god, please," she pleaded for mercy, anything to make it stop. Finally, when nausea had subsided and the pain in her head had grown ten times, she turned about and tried to pull herself up. But she had no strength in her arms or legs.

She somehow managed to crawl along the floor, even her whimpers hurting her ears. Tears began to fall, but she ignored them. She needed to get back to bed. She needed to rest.

She managed to make it to the doorway of the bathroom before her strength left her. She collapsed to the floor and curled into a tight ball as tremors wracked through her. Cold. She was so cold.

"Jamie," she called out, forgetting he wasn't there, "Jamie! It hurts," time began to mean nothing to her as a new wave washed over her. This time, it brought darkness and in the darkness, was respite and rest. She went to it willingly.

A short while later...

"I'm home!" Jamie came in and dumped his bag by the side of the stairs, reminding himself to pick it up later once he'd checked in on his wife.

He'd half expected to find her downstairs and attempting to do small chores, but no. Nothing. No reply to even acknowledge she had heard him.

"Abigail, I'm home!" Still nothing. If she was asleep, she would have woken by now. Had something...

Something foul gripped his heart as he made his way up the steps. Perhaps she was stuck in bed. Perhaps...

As he rounded the corner, he saw her. Crumpled on the floor in her nightdress and still.

"Abigail!" He called out before bounding over to her. He knelt down and carefully turned her about. She whimpered as if he had hurt her and he finally felt her temperature. It was as though her skin was on fire.

"Come on, love," he took her into his arms and lifted her back up, "it's alright."

Despite the heat rolling off her skin like a furnace, she shuddered against him as though she had a terrible chill. This wasn't the flu or a bad bug. He knew whatever it was needed to be attended to. Immediately.

He placed her back in their bed and fussed over her for a bit. Smoothing down her hair and reassuring her that he wouldn't be gone long. That he'd be there for her.

"Love," he whispered as gently as he could, though he felt his voice shake when she cried out in pain, "Love, I'm going to get the doctor. I'll be back. I promise I'll return soon."

He did not want to leave her. He did not want to let her go, but he knew he had to. Her response was only whimpers and moans.

As soon as he stepped away from the bed, he ran. He'd never run so fast in his life, even when fighting pirates. But the quicker he got there, the quicker he could get back to Abigail.

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Jamie had not actually waited for the doctor to accompany him home. As soon as he'd gotten the message and the doctor told him he would prepare his bag, Jamie had run straight back. It hadn't taken him long and he was thankful he was still in top shape as he made it back to the house and took the stairs two steps at a time.

He'd found her in the same place and same condition and immediately bustled about. He moved around the house grabbing towels, water and anything he thought she might be able to keep down. He tried her with juice, broth and milk, but everything she refused.

Her eyes were open and she was awake, but she seemed lost in hallucinations. She couldn't focus on what Jamie was saying and her labored breathing worried him. What was it that gripped her so?

When the doctor arrived, he immediately began to check her vitals, asking Jamie various questions about her symptoms and what he had noticed. He listed her headaches, her sore throat and the way she had been acting that very morning.

"Has she vomited? Complained of nausea?"

"When I found her...she must have been sick just after I left, the chamber pot had only water in it and that was all she'd had today," he'd remembered seeing it when he went to grab linen towels, his heart sinking at the thought she couldn't even keep that down.

He saw the grave expression pass over the doctor's face as he looked inside Abigail's mouth. He could see something Jamie had missed and as Abigail managed to weakly shake her head free and cry out, he turned to him. Jamie felt his very being grow cold.

"It's Scarlet Fever. I'm surprised one her age has it...I've never seen it take to an adult quite like this."

Jamie couldn't think clearly. He tried to concentrate as he absorbed what was making his wife sick. Something that could easily kill her.

"I don't know if she's had it before. She never talked about it."

"Then maybe that is why."

"Are you sure?" Jamie moved closer to the bed, looking down at his wife and hoping, just HOPING, the Doctor was mistaken. But the man only shook his head and began to fiddle with the contents of his bag.

"Her headaches, her fever and the vomiting are all signs, however," he got out a bottle and leather pack and Jamie's chest tightened when he realised they were needles, "it's the white spots on her tongue. Easily missed. And the red of her cheeks is not caused by fever, but a rash."

The Doctor began to prepare the medicine and the needle and Jamie could clearly see the words 'Morphine' on the side.

"We'll have to get her fever down before we do anything else. I can't bleed her as she is," he turned to Jamie with a worried brow, "are you in danger?"

"I had it when I was younger," which was the truth, but even if he hadn't, he wasn't going to leave her.

"Good. I can try to give her a small dose of morphine but...if I give her anymore it could kill her. It should help."

Jamie watched his wife's face contort into pain when the needle pushed into her arm, but a few moments after the medicine had entered her bloodstream, a calmness seemed to go over her. Her tremors died down and her cries stopped. Her eyes fluttered open and she called softly, "Jamie?" And the doctor moved, making way for her husband.

"Love," his hand automatically came up to smooth back her hair, "I'm here."

Abigail's eyes flickered open and he could tell she was trying to focus, but what medicine she had been given had only taken the edge off of her sickness.

"Everything's...dancing," she looked up at the ceiling and for a moment, her eyes widened as if seeing something, "It hurts. I hurt so much."

Jamie felt powerless as he watched his wife crumple again, her lips quivering as a small wave of pain washed over her.

"I know. You're not well, Love. You're very sick."

"I-I have to see the Meyers. I have to go," in her fevered mind, she thought of nothing but carrying on with her duties. Her hand came up and tried to bat away Jamie's hand, but she must have been seeing double because her touch barely made contact with him.

"Not today, darling. You need to rest," he felt a sob starting to build up inside of him and even with the doctor present, he feared he would let it out.

Abigail stilled for a moment and shook her head.

"The babe."

"Pardon?"

"The babe...the baby. I have to go and help with the baby. She's sick and she won't cry out. She'll be good," that seemed to have taken the last bit of her strength and with one last attempt to fight him away, she slipped back into restless unconsciousness.

But her words stuck with Jamie and he realised...it was the baby. He turned to the doctor, knowing that he couldn't stay and help Abigail when there was a child suffering so close.

"The house down the road...there are children there and an infant. My wife said she's been sick for a week now. You'll have to go and see them."

"I'll return later. Remember, try to keep her fever down and give her water."

Just as the doctor made to go, Jamie remembered one last thing.

"Whatever medicine they need...we'll pay for it."

With one last understanding nod, the doctor turned and made his own way out of the house. Jamie wasn't going to show him the way, not now. Not when his wife needed him.

"Right...we're going to get your fever down," he knew she might not be able to hear him, but felt better at talking with her nonetheless, "and we're going to get you some water. I'm right here, Love."

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The candlelight in the room flickered and created such an alluring glow, that Jamie wanted nothing more than to watch the shadows dance over the walls as he let sleep take him over. He was exhausted. But he couldn't sleep. Not now.

He'd been up and down most of the day and evening, refilling a water bowl and trying to think of anything that might help. He'd pulled Abigail's sheets and blankets off of her and whilst it pained him to watch her cry out and shudder, he knew it was for the best. He wrapped the thickest blankets around her feet and legs and tucked her in around her waist. Afterward, he kept pressing a wet flannel to her head, neck and shoulders, trying to bring the fever down to her feet. Every time he left to refill the water bowl however, he'd return to find her weakly trying to pull her sheets up around herself, her mind tricking her into thinking she was cold. He'd right her again and continue to press the cloth against her, even when she weakly begged him to stop. He'd apologised countless times to her and eventually, it must have reached her mind that he was trying to help, because she stopped asking and gave up trying to pull the sheets around herself.

When he tried her with water, she could only sip a little bit and Jamie knew the pain must have been so intense. To keep her lips from drying out, he pressed the wet cloth to them and that seemed to be the only relief for her.

And now, as she laid there, the morphine having left her system, Jamie...could do nothing more. He was tired. He hated feeling so...powerless and useless. He moved the wet cloth into each of her hot, sweaty palms and held on, trying to help her in any way.

"I don't know what to do."

The words left him before he could stop them. As did the tears that fell from his eyes.

"If you were...if it were me there you'd know what to do and I don't. I can't-can't-"

He bent his head low, almost ashamed to look at her. And despite himself...in all the years since he'd stopped asking for help...he began to pray.

"God...please. Please, help her. Don't let her die," he repeated those words over and over again until he stopped talking to God and continued talking to his wife, "I can't lose you. I can't say goodbye, Love...I can't, so please...please fight it."

"Jamie."

He raised his head at the weak cry and even with her eyes shut and her hands too weak to hold him back, he knew she could hear him. She knew he was there.

He pushed himself forward and placed a gentle kiss against her forehead.

"I'm here. I'm right here."

He carried on with his duties, ensuring she was kept cool, but at some point, it became too much. He only shut his eyes for a moment, he was sure, but a hammering on the door downstairs made him sit bolt upright. The doctor was back.

He leaped up and ran out of the room, hurrying down the stairs to let him in. He hadn't looked at Abigail. He hadn't seen the way her hand fell limply when he had let her go.

"Doctor, the Meyers?" Jamie reached the bottom of the stairs and helped the man out of his coat and hat.

"Not good, I'm afraid. The infant was dead before I got there and another two have come down with symptoms. It's early, so they may yet survive, but they have medicine and need rest for tonight," he looked about him and suddenly gasped in frustration, "blast! I've left my bag in the carriage. I'll return and meet you upstairs."

Jamie left the door open and made his way back up the stairs, two steps at a time. He walked back into the hallway and into his bedroom...and stopped.

Abigail was still in their bed, but she no longer tremored or cried out.

She was silent. Peaceful. Still.

Jamie felt everything around him shift suddenly. Like he was leaving his body and watching from afar. He held his breath and waited. Nothing happened.

She was gone.

He'd gone to get the doctor to help and not noticed...and he had fallen asleep and not spotted her lack of shakes.

He never said goodbye. He'd let her go and not been there for her.

His world has gone.

"No."

He shook his head in disbelief and stepped closer to the bed, but his legs gave out and he ended up knelt beside it, his hands coming out shakily, unsure where to hold her. To touch her, to just-

"My love," he sobbed when his hands landed either side of her face and she did not stir, "My love."

His thumb brushed over her cheeks and felt her cool flesh beneath his-

Cool. Whilst cool, not cold. But that was impossible, he'd only fallen asleep for a moment, how could her temperature-

And then he felt it. It was tiny, but he felt, he was sure!

He held his breath again.

Concentrated.

There it was again! Beneath his fingertips, he could feel her. Breathing.

She was alive. And her temperature had gone down. She'd broken out of the fever.

A shaky sob left him before he could stop himself, this time he was laughing almost joyously as he did so. She wasn't gone.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and he turned around, calling out gleefully, "her fever has broken!"

The Doctor came back into the room, shock, and surprise evident on his face. Had he heard right?

Quickly, he moved Jamie aside and checked her vitals. As he forced one of her eyes open with his thumb, she groaned and tried to shake her head free. The doctor almost looked pleased.

"We may not have to bleed her after all. And she may not need morphine," he turned to Jamie with a small smile, "she's not out of danger, but...it may just be now...that she needs rest."

The next morning...

Jamie was not comfortable in the slightest, but he was tired and even with the odd angle, he felt himself being pulled into sleep. Once he'd gotten rid of the doctor, he'd swapped from bathing Abigail with the wet cloth to pressing it against her open mouth and trying to get more water into her. She seemed to take it a lot easier, but at one point, actually managed to bat his hand away. He'd laughed and pressed a kiss to her red cheek.

His stubborn love, even when asleep.

He'd pulled up a chair close to their bed and finally allowed himself to rest. Awkwardly. He'd drift in and out of sleep endlessly, trying to shift about to get comfy and just keeping himself alert encase she woke suddenly. Every time his eyes landed on her peaceful face though, he'd check to see if she was still breathing. Still just sleeping.

As the first rays of sunlight tried to peek in through the curtain, Jamie thought he could get in another hour or so of sleep. Or awkward sleep, all he had to do was lean back, prop himself up with his leg and-

"Jamie?"

His head snapped up when the quiet voice called to him and the sight that greeted him...in the last day, he hadn't seen anything quite so beautiful.

Her face was tired and pale and her cheeks were still slightly tinged red from the rash, but she was smiling at him. That smile that shook him to his very core and the smile she'd given him on the first day she had told him she loved him and he reciprocated that love.

Slowly, careful not to disturb her too much, he stood up and swapped the seat for the bed, leaning over her with both hands. He wanted to pull her tightly against him and hold her and kiss her but...she looked so small. So fragile.

"Hello," he smiled back and gave her a shaky laugh, "do you want some water?"

She nodded weakly at him and her hand pressed softly over the back of his arm as he moved again. He felt the feather-light brush of her fingertips through his clothes and wanted to cry again. Such a simple, small touch and so important. So alive.

He poured out another full glass of water for her and this time since she was awake, helped sit her up. As soon as she was sat up, he moved into position behind her and allowed her to lean against him. She seemed to sway and he held her around the waist.

"Steady, Love."

He pressed the cup against her hands and held on with her as she took slow, tentative sips. When she seemed satiated, he pulled the cup away and put it back on the side table. But he did not move. He held her and brushed the hair away from her face.

"How do you feel?" Stupid question, he knew, but he wanted to know.

"Tired. Sore," she croaked out and turned her head slowly to look at him, "...was I dreaming? I remember spinning and a man...I felt so sad and so much pain but...I thought it was a dream."

She obviously had not remembered the little conversation they had when she had been given the morphine. Gently, he explained to her that her 'flu' had been Scarlet Fever, which caused the pain and the spinning. He also explained the Doctor and how her statement about the Meyers baby had made him realise that was how she'd been sick.

"Is...the babe alright?"

Jamie couldn't lie to her. He knew it would hurt her but...he wouldn't do it.

He shook his head slowly.

"I'm sorry, Love."

He watched the moment of pain flash across her face, but she seemed unable to cry. Instead, she leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder as she let out a few, shaky breaths.

He held her for a bit longer before his mothering instincts seemed to kick in and he gently helped her lay back down.

"I'm going to make you some soup ok?" He knew he had to try and get some food into her, even if she might not keep it down, "If you need me, just call. I'll be right downstairs."

She smiled at him again and nodded weakly, watching him leave and trying to resist the urge to sit up without him. She felt so tired and heavy...sore. Her eyes fluttered shut again and she let herself be pulled into a light sleep.

When Jamie returned with food and more water, he couldn't help himself. She was smiling and peaceful again and...the thought hit him. He'd nearly lost her. He had thought that he had for a dreadful moment and...he never wanted to feel that again.

He placed the small tray aside and kneeling beside the bed again, he carefully lay his head against her chest and wrapped his arms around her the best he could. The sobs were pulled from him the moment he could hear her heart beating and he tried to stay quiet, but he just couldn't.

A weight suddenly wrapped around his head and neck and fingers moved through his unclean hair, stroking tenderly. She was tired and weak but...she held him close with what strength she had. She just held him as he sobbed against her and he wouldn't let her go for a solid hour. Not until he'd convinced himself that she wasn't going anywhere.

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A month or so later...

"Jamie, I'm all right!" Abigail gave a shaky laugh as she held onto the banister and took the first step down, "I can make it down the stairs by myself, Love-"

"I know, I know," he took the steps backward as he faced her, his hands out and ready encase she fell, "I'm just a precaution. Just pretend I'm not here!"

She laughed again and shook her head, though she wouldn't try to dismiss him again.

When she was strong enough to get out of the bed herself, Jamie had still held onto her and helped her about, though he never let her go farther than the bathroom, nor down the stairs until a few days earlier. She'd insisted on coming down to wash the sheets and help him make dinner at least, but he'd sat her down in his armchair and wrapped her legs so tightly in a blanket, that she could barely move.

Still, she appreciated it. Whilst she was no longer overtaken by fever or pain, her body felt stiff still. Weaker. The doctor had returned, along with her own healer and both had said that it could take months before she regained her full strength. So, for now, with Jamie by her side and being very protective, she really did appreciate him.

As soon as her last foot was off the stairs, he happily offered her his arm and 'escorted' her over to their kitchen table. She went to move about and prepare breakfast and tea, but he made her sit down and began to bustle about with the cutlery and kettle himself.

"Jamie, that's my job," she laughed again when he placed her favourite biscuits in front of her, starting to feel a little spoiled.

"No, no, I've gotten good at this," he bustled about behind her and began to hum a happy little tune as he worked, "just wait until you try this!"

Abigail watched him mill about and let a comfortable silence descend over them, just watching and listening to her husband as he chatted to her about their 'relaxed' plans for the day.

When he set down her favourite cup in front of her and she sniffed the contents, she was surprised to find it actually smelt fairly decent.

She was even more surprised when she took a cautious sip and the warm, delicious liquid slipped down her throat with ease. She was thankful that her throat no longer ailed her.

"Jamie, you've gotten good!"

He took the seat opposite her and whilst she could tell he was restraining himself, she could see the flicker of a smug smile begin.

"Lots of practice. Between the Doctor, myself, and the visitors we had, I think I can not only make a decent cup of tea, but I can also wash up as well," he smirked at her, though she had caught him whistling merrily as he did the dishes the day before.

But then, something he said caught her attention.

"Visitors?" She hadn't seen anyone. Nor had he told her they had company, but then, she had been sleeping a lot.

"They didn't want to disturb you. All those flowers aren't from me...they're from the Gilda. She wanted to know how you were doing."

Abigail slowly lowered her teacup and looked at Jamie, shocked at the news.

"Me?" But-but her child-I-" Abigail suddenly felt herself well up with emotion, unsure of how to take in the news that Gilda had come to enquire after her health after losing her child.

Jamie reached over and placed his hand over her wrist, urging her to look at him.

"She does not blame you. And you shouldn't blame yourself. None of you knew to look in the child's mouth. They couldn't cry out because of the pain there, so you didn't know to look."

He'd given her this speech already. She knew she shouldn't blame herself, but a small part still felt guilty. She also mourned the loss of such a sweet, small babe that had perished so young.

"I just...I feel awful for her," she wanted to show her determination and put her foot down, but considering how she still felt and knowing she needed his help, her request was polite and desperate, "I'd like to go see her. Please?"

Jamie sighed but smiled at her. He'd expected this. And he wasn't going to say no.

"I knew you'd want that...come on, there's something for us outside."

He helped Abigail up and led her towards the door. When they were outside, she almost didn't see it at first as the bright Spring sunshine blinded her and she had to shield her eyes as she struggled to look.

And then the horse whinnied. And she gasped when she saw it. A small wagon, made for two and with a beautiful brown stallion standing proud, waiting to pull it.

She turned to Jamie for an explanation.

"When did-"

"It's not ours to keep. It's a gift from the farmhouse up the road. They heard you had been unwell and said we could use this until you feel better."

Slowly, he walked with her down their small path, pleased that she was getting some fresh air that wasn't just from her bedroom window.

"That's so kind of them," Abigail did, of course, divert in climbing up straight away in favor of patting the creature on its back, her hands rubbing over its shiny, smooth coat.

"Well, people have talked about how kind you are. And generous. And helpful. They remembered your kindness from before. Come here," he urged her away from the creature because he knew if he didn't, she'd spend all day attending to the horse and the horse would love every second of it.

Carefully, he helped her up into the wagon and made sure she was comfortable.

"Stay there, it's not cold now, but I'll get your shawl and blanket. Do you want anything else?"

"A basket of food...for the Meyers. Please."

He left her, smiling all the way into the house. Of course, she'd think of others before herself. That was one of the things he loved about her. And that's why he'd already prepared small little food packages for the family. Nothing much, bread, cheeses, and meats, but he'd known she'd want to go and see them. And this time, he'd be with her.

As he made his way back outside however, he caught sight of Abigail sobbing quietly in the wagon and rushed over, thinking something dreadful had happened.

"What's wrong?!" He reached up and took a hold of her hands, checking her over for any signs of sickness returning.

She managed to still her tears and turned to him, a small, shaky smile on her face.

"I'm very...very lucky. For everything I have. And I could have lost it all if I just...if I'd listened to you about going to see the doctor. I'm so sorry."

Quickly putting the basket between them and climbing up, he held her as best he could, what with one arm still full of her shawl and blanket he'd grabbed.

"I'm the lucky one. You're still here," he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in her scent, "I'm glad...I'm glad I still have you."

She sniffed and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I'm afraid, Mr Norrington, you're stuck with me."

"Good."

She assured him she was alright and he tucked her legs with the blanket, fussing over her yet again. But just before he sat himself down next to her, she pulled him close and pressed a sweet, loving kiss against his lips. When he pulled back, she merely stated, "thank you."

As he urged the horse into a steady trot and they made their way down the dusty road, Abigail lent against her husband and pulled her blanket partway off, to tuck over his lap.

Jamie knew she wasn't just thankful for the blanket and the fussing. She was thankful for everything. As was he.


	14. Danger lurks in the shadows

Danger lurks in the Shadows

"Pardon me, Madame, spare a coppa' for a lost soul?"

Abigail turned around and came face to face with a small, dirty-looking individual, who smiled politely at her. He had one hand over his heart and the other held out to her, his dirty palm open.

But Abigail didn't mind. He'd asked her politely and who was she to refuse someone who asked for her help?

"Hold on," she shuffled around in her basket and pulled out the last few coins she had in the bottom, plus an apple from the bundle she had bought, "I've not got much I'm afraid. But I can at least offer you some sustenance with it?"

"Bless ya' heart, Bless ya'! You've made Joe's day, Ma'am," he eagerly took both the coins and the apple, rubbing the latter against his dirty shirt as he grinned, "wish more people were like you, yes I do!"

"If I may...my only advice isn't to spend that at the alehouse," Abigail knew it may be fruitless, but thought a kind and firm word might help, "the chapel will help you...don't be afraid to go and ask for it, since you are a lost soul."

The man didn't seem offended in the slightest. He nodded courteously and smiled, a little sheepish.

"Aye'. Bless ya' Ma'am. Yer' a good heart!" He backed away slowly and bowed low to her, "Thank ya' again, Ma'am! Old Joe shan't both you anymore!"

She turned away from him with a small smile and began to make her way through the busy market. But a strange feeling came over her. Old Joe? He wasn't much older than her surely and...for some reason, she felt his name wasn't Joe.

It was...odd. Had he asked her for money before? Surely, she'd seen him around but...there was something in the back of her mind. She knew him from somewhere.

As she made her way through the crowds with her shopping, she felt no need to turn back and look, however.

She never saw him stare after her.

Never saw him scuttle away when she was out of view.

Never saw the dark alleyway he entered, nor the rickety old door he shoved open.

The people inside and the malicious grin he gave them as he spoke.

"You'll never guess who I just bumped into."

A couple of days later...

"Letter!" Jamie sat down opposite Abigail as she slowly peeled potatoes and held up the envelope in his hand, "It is addressed to both of us by full name and...the writing is slight scruffy. Can you think of any children who'd want to write to us?"

Abigail arched her brow. That was an odd question, but there was something in her husband's expression, telling her that she SHOULD indeed know.

"I can't think-Maffi!" Abigail squeaked excitedly when she thought of the last person she made a promise to write to and waved the peeler at Jamie, "Read it, please! My hands are all...potatoey."

He smirked and slowly did as she asked him. He pulled out the small letter and smiled.

"Short, but sweet," he cleared his throat and turned to face his wife as he began to read aloud, "Dear Abigail and Jamie. I hope you are alright. I miss you a lot, but the island is very pretty here. I found so many flowers and food here, I can't even count them all. I hope you write back soon and I'll try to write also. Mrs Cutter has helped me write this letter and she says hello also. I miss you. Maffi."

He turned the letter towards Abigail and hid his adoring smile behind the paper as he said, "and she gave us four kisses. Each, I think."

Abigail looked at the scruffy, but recognisable handwriting of Maffi. It had been months since they'd last seen her and she almost thought the little girl had forgotten about her. She was glad she hadn't, especially since she and Jamie would talk about her when they began to read a certain book.

"Do you think we should write back?" Jamie asked her playfully, though he already knew the answer and just liked goading her.

"No, I think we should stick a couple of postage marks to your head and send you off instead," she carried on peeling away, trying not to smile.

"I don't think all the postage will fit on my head. We might have to get creative and put it a few other places."

She looked back up to see her husband give her a devilishly, dirty grin and she read his mind.

"Don't be so rude...I don't think the postmaster will approve."

Jamie broke first and Abigail couldn't control her amusement anymore, grinning at his hearty laugh.

When he had stopped, he observed the letter one more time and nodded his head.

"I'll go and write one back now, shall I? Care to join me?"

As he stood up and made his way around the table towards her, she shook her head and looked at the nearly empty bowl in front of her.

"These potatoes won't peel themselves. But you go and write for me, I trust you and I both want to say the same things?"

As he leaned over her, bracing himself on the back of her chair and the table, he considered it.

"We miss you, we hope you are well and...no mention of anything bad that she has missed?"

Abigail knew what he was referring to. She didn't want Maffi to know about her sickness, especially since it wasn't affecting her health anymore.

"I'm healthy and well," Abigail tilted her head, hoping he would catch on, "all thanks to my wonderful, hard-working and supportive husband."

"If I put that in, Mrs. Cutter will assume I've gotten a big head," he slowly broke the distance and placed one quick, loving kiss against her lips.

He pulled away and set off to his 'study', which was merely a beautifully carved desk and chair Abigail had surprised him with. He'd showed his appreciation by picking her up and placing her on the desk, before burying his head under her skirts and between her legs.

She smiled, remembering him claiming afterward how it was important to 'christen' the desk.

Other than those two pieces of furniture, he had yet to start adding to the contents of the room. Abigail had been on the lookout for some more pieces, preferably a small side table, but every time she had gone into town to the antique shop, she had gotten distracted.

She would be looking over items or enquiring about having one made when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She'd turn around, expecting to find someone there, but she never saw anyone.

It was troubling her. For the last few days, she'd had that feeling. In the shops, around the market place...and the worse was when she was on the road home one evening. She'd felt it and turned around and could have SWORN she saw figures in the distance. She'd stayed and waited but they moved farther away as if they had been heading the other way all along, but...there was no other road, so where had they come from? Had they come up that way and turned back when they realised they were heading in the wrong direction? Or was she actually being followed?

She hated that feeling of-

"Darling?"

Abigail jumped and turned when something touched her arm, the knife she was using to peel the potatoes with, held out defensively. Jamie pulled back and held up his hands in surrender and Abigail felt mortified.

"God!" She moved the knife away from him and turned her red face back into the table, "God, sorry! Oh, Love, I didn't hear you come back in!"

With her hands full, she tried to hide her face in her wrists, but she was so flustered, she pulled them back down, and looked at her husband, hoping he wasn't too mad at being threatened with a knife by the woman he was supposed to trust.

Instead, he just looked worried.

"I noticed. I did tell you the letter was done but you were far away," he moved slowly over to his side of the table, still looking at her.

"It is? Good," she smiled nervously when she realised he was telling the truth. She had been far away in her own thoughts and they weren't the soundest thoughts and ideas either.

He took his seat again placed both his hands together, leaning his chin against his knuckles as he looked back at her.

"Are you feeling all right? You've been distracted."

So he had seen it. She thought it hadn't been noticeable but obviously, she was wrong about that.

"It's...silly, that's all."

"Go on. I won't laugh," he urged her on.

"Well...It's been a strange few days. I was at the market and swore I saw someone I recognised. And I just...do you ever get that feeling under your skin that someone is watching you? Every time I turn around, I feel like...someone is right behind me, but there's never anyone there."

Her eyes focused on the potato still in her hand and she had to relax her grip when she felt her fingers begin to smoosh it. Jamie's hand covered her wrist and gently shook her, encouraging her to drop it onto the plate.

"You're really troubled by this, aren't you?"

He could see it in her troubled expression, but when she caught his intense stare, she shook herself and forced a laugh out.

"Sorry. I know it sounds silly," she wiped the sweat forming on her forehead with the back of her free hand, "must be the heat making me paranoid."

"I'm sure there's a reason for it," his thumb stroked over the back of her knuckle and his other hand grabbed the one still holding the knife, reassuring her that he was on her side, "and it doesn't sound silly. You're not one to lose yourself in fantasies so easily."

Abigail smiled at him, feeling herself relax properly.

"Thank you, Jamie."

"For?"

"For not dismissing it and calling me mad."

"Never," he pulled both of her hands towards him and placed a kiss to her knuckles. He didn't seem too bothered by the knife in her hand now, but Abigail did. Especially since the blade was pointed inwards.

"Careful! Watch the peeler, I don't want to cut you."

Jamie quickly sorted that problem out. He turned her hand over, plucked the handle from her grasp, and tossed the knife over the edge of the table. He then continued to kiss her, though Abigail was scandalised.

"Jamie!-"

"Sorry, can't talk," he held tightly onto one hand and began to press teasing bites to the corners, "busy."

Abigail, having lost her knife, quickly slipped her other hand free and grabbed the potato she had nearly squashed. She held it over her shoulder and told him in threatening tones, "go and get that, this instant!"

She laughed when he released her, his hands coming up in mock surrender as he woefully said, "You wouldn't harm an unarmed man who merely wanted to show affection to his wife?"

Abigail slowly stood up and began to toss the potato from one hand to another. She made her way around his side of the table, intending on sticking it down the back of his coat.

"Oh, I would. ESPECIALLY, when my husband intends for me to clean up the mess myself," she held the potato out towards his face, threateningly, "now, I don't want to have to do this, but this potato will go all over your beard if you don't go and pick that up right now-Ah!"

Abigail squealed when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her suddenly into his lap. He skilfully wrestled her, until both her hands were pointing at her face and he slowly began to push the potato close to her.

"No! Mercy! Please!" She laughed and when she felt the flesh of the potato touch her chin, but found it hard to push away when she was getting breathless from laughing so hard, "Parley! Parley, Jamie!"

Jamie, luckily, decided to grant her mercy and released her wrists. But before she could enact her revenge, he plucked the potato from her grasp, tossed it on the table, and pulled her close to him, his arms wrapping her as she struggled to get her breath back.

"Hah! Caught you!" His lips suddenly pressed against her neck and she could feel his triumphant smirk as he mumbled between kisses, "You're mine now and I shall do whatever I please with you!"

"You fiend," she moaned and allowed her head to drop back, allowing him better access. She had one last wicked thought and slowly, her hands trailed up and along his back, moving over his shoulders and passed his neck. Her fingers moved into his hair and he would have continued to kiss her, except he felt a strange eagerness as her hands massaged his scalp.

He then thought long and hard about the hand in his hair and he groaned.

"Did you just-"

"It's alright. A little bit of potato never hurt anyone."

Jamie sighed and pulled away from her.

"Well, you asked for it. No mercy now."

He allowed Abigail to jump off of his lap and she managed to get two paces before she was picked up again. This time, he twisted her about and tossed her wriggling, shrieking form over his shoulder.

"Jamie, put me down-Ow!" She cried out in surprise when his hand came up and swiftly smacked her across the backside.

She protested, all the way through the house and he only replied by speeding up towards the bedroom, before he tossed her on the bed and quickly pressed himself against her.

Despite her protests along the way, she eagerly pulled him down to her lips and kissed him without any hesitation. As her husband returned her embrace, Abigail felt her troubles melt away and all the dark thoughts were forgotten. For now.

A few days later...

The day had turned to Evening and Abigail was the last to leave the fabric shop, her basket full to the brim and she waved goodbye to the exhausted shopkeeper, who eagerly shut the door behind her.

"Oops," she couldn't help but giggle as she walked away from the door, though it was hardly her fault she bought so much. She hadn't intended to stay so long, it being her last visit, but when Nell had said that a new shipment had arrived AND that Abigail could be the first to see it...well, what had meant to be ten minutes turned into an hour and a half.

Still, at least she not only had enough fabric for her own clothes, but she also had enough to make Jamie that new coat he'd been on about. She was distracted when she walked along the quiet streets and towards the road that led home. All she could think about was giving Jamie the coat as a birthday present OR even saving it until Christmas. Perhaps a 'you've been good' present she could give him as soon as it was ready?

She never heard the sounds behind her. She did, however, see the figure slowly approach from her front. A familiar, small, and dirty looking man, who had a large grin on his face.

What was his name again?

John?

Joseph?

Old Joe!

She smiled, glad she had recalled the name so quickly.

"Good evening, Joe," he greeted him as he stopped a couple of feet in front of her. She'd expected him to bow, or smile politely as he had done the first time they met, but he just grinned at her.

"Hello, Mrs. Norrington."

Abigail froze. The warning sounds went off in her head, even when she tried to rationalise. She hadn't told him her name. And whilst she hoped that maybe, just maybe he'd asked her name from someone in town, she had a feeling he was no longer polite and friendly 'Joe'.

She felt, rather than heard the presence behind her. She knew it was stupid to turn her back on the man, but she had to...when she knew she was surrounded.

Two other men stood behind her, slightly spaced out. Trapping her in.

If she ran, she wouldn't get far. So she tried to remain calm. What did they want? They all looked familiar and she just couldn't place them at first. She looked them over. One was lanky and had a scar on his cheek, another was the same height as 'Joe', but with a portly belly.

Looking for answers and finding the same grinning, leering look from these two, she turned slowly back to him.

He looked offended and began to move in front of her, casually moving to the side.

"Can't even offer a friendly greeting to a former shipmate?"

Shit.

The Pearl.

She had known these men before! And not in a good way.

Whilst there had been a few characters on that ship she felt she could trust (somewhat), there were other unscrupulous characters she steered clear from. Ones that they had just picked up in a port and brought on board. And whilst she could not recall every name and face, she'd remembered 'Joe', well enough. He may have gained some weight and cut his beard, but she knew him.

His name was Guido. He'd cornered her one day and tried to stick his hand down her trousers. She'd cut him with her sword and told him never to go near her again. He had listened, but she'd always felt his eyes burning a hole through her whenever she walked near.

She also knew the other two...Paulo and Frank? Yes. They had never met her as personally as Guido, but she'd known to avoid men like them. She'd seen the way they had treated some of the girls when they made port.

And now they were slowly, circling her. She wondered if this was what a gazelle felt like being surrounded by hyenas.

She also wondered if it was too late to deny who she was, but they began to talk amongst themselves.

"I told you, it's her!" Guido moved out of her line of vision and Paulo came round, his eyes moving up and down her body.

"Well, as I live and breathe...Commodore Norrington's wife," he spat out Jamie's position with such venom, Abigail instantly felt protective. That was HER pet name for him. This man wasn't even worthy to polish his boots.

"Admiral even," she heard Frank amend from her side, but it sounded more mocking than corrective. She couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"Former and I have a name. What do you want?"

"Oh, did ya' hear that lads? She's asking what we want!" Guido came back around into her vision and took a step closer to her.

Feeling brave, even though she was visibly shaking, Abigail turned her nose up at him.

"Yes. I'm sorry, was that too big a question for your small brain? WHAT. DO. YOU. WANT?" She barked at him, knowing she'd regret it by the way he looked at her.

The little flash of pure hatred in his eyes. The twitch of his lips.

And suddenly, he burst into laughter. He looked either side of him, still laughing and seeing if his mates were joining. Abigail only just looked over, but she saw his hand coming towards her. She tried to defend herself, but when his hand hit the back of her arm, he grabbed it and twisted. The basket fell from her grasp as she cried out, but he wasn't done with her.

His other hand came up and finished the job, striking her with the back of his hand across the eye and nose.

He let her go and she clutched at her face as she stumbled backward, in shock and pain. But she didn't cry or scream. She managed to get her footing and stood back up, her hands falling away from her face as she glared at him.

Paulo moved to her side and licked his lips.

"Oh, she's tough. Think you can handle all of us, darlin'?"

She knew she shouldn't. She knew what would happen. But she also knew that begging for mercy would not work, so if she was going to go down, she'd go down fighting.

"I've handled Captain Jack Sparrow, little man. You lot are nothing but cowards. Cornering a woman alone when she has nothing but a basket of-"

The punch did not come from Guido this time. Paulo apparently, didn't like the way she had talked to him.

His fist hit her hard in the mouth and her entire head buzzed with pain as she stumbled again, this time falling to the ground below. She felt a trickle fall from her mouth and reached up to touch where exactly she was bleeding, but a powerful kick suddenly landed on her stomach.

She gasped and clutched at herself, desperately trying to get the breath back. Another harder kick landed on her back, this time sending her crashing down to the floor. She grunted, but still did not cry out again. She knew that was what they wanted. To have her crying and begging for mercy.

She wouldn't give it to them.

She felt hands grab her hair and tugged her roughly back, so she was kneeling and looking up at them. Her hands came and held the wrist of the man that gripped her so, her head being shaken as he 'playfully' tugged her about.

They all smiled down at her, Paulo slowly kneeling down to her level. She was half-tempted to spit in his face.

"How should we wrap her for the admiral then?" Guido queried above and Paulo responded with something that made Abigail's stomach roll in disgust and terror.

"I saw we unwrap her first. Show us what ye've been hiding all that time at sea!"

His hands came out and managed to rip the tunic underneath her bodice, but she fought back on the pain and brought her leg out, kicking at him.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" She hissed at him and began to kick out at him in earnest, ignoring the way her head was violently being shaken left and right by Guido. It was another harder slap around her face that stopped her fight.

"Don't. Scream," Paulo cut off her increasing yells and grunts, hoping that no one would hear them.

Frank interjected with a bright idea of his own.

"We can gut her. Leave her like he left our boys," Frank squinted at her in disgust, "you think because he became a pirate we would forgive him for all those years 'serving' under King and country? All those men, women, and even children they hung? Slaughtered? All because they were given orders?!"

He got close enough and actually spat in her face. She felt nauseous as the saliva rolled down her cheek, but she didn't have time to wipe it away as Paulo's hands were suddenly on her again, trying to tear at her clothes.

"We can take her back to her cosy little cottage and she can show us her hostess skills," he laughed at her desperate attempts to bat him away again, "how about it, Mrs. N?! Make him watch and then, string ya' both up! Having em' dance like puppets on a string!"

"Can't wait that long. Stand back, lads. She's got a nasty kick this one!" Guido pulled her away from Paulo, dragging her backward by her hair. She did cry out in pain, but she held on tightly to his wrist, trying to relieve some of the pressure. He threw her down onto her sore back and releasing her hair, purposefully yanked her head back violently so it connected with a hard 'THUMP!' on the ground below.

Dizzy and with her eyes beginning to see black spots, she opened her eyes and struggled to get her senses back. It helped when Guido suddenly straddled her and tried to rip open her bodice.

He laughed as she struggled underneath him and she turned herself away with a scream as she tried to get free. The pain in her arms and legs as they cut into the ground underneath was smothered below the sheer will she had. To live. To fight. To protect her husband from the fate they'd described.

Summoning what strength and skill she had, she managed to get a leg free and kick him off, a well-placed boot right in his privates. The other two thought it was hilarious and instead of helping their comrade up, jeered at him for losing to a girl.

She could hear him curse and shuffle behind her and she moved quickly towards the contents of her overturned basket.

She'd remembered everything she not only bought but packed that day. She flung aside the fabrics, the food, and her hand slipped inside and she wrapped her fingers around the handle of her knife, just as Guido's hand fell on her waist.

"You're not going anyway, bitch!" He yanked her back along the ground, not seeing the item she clutched to her chest, "Frank, help me turn her over!"

Abigail waited, her body rigid and stiff, purposefully making it awkward for one man alone to turn her. Guido's hands were still on her waist as Frank's came about her shoulders.

They turned her and she didn't wait long, because she knew they would see the knife pressed against her chest, tightly held in her grip.

With a cry of anger, grabbing Frank with her free hand, she pulled him down by his shirt and plunged the knife into his chest.

He tensed above her and she knew she had gotten his heart. She pulled the knife away, ignoring the splash of blood that fell over her and not even waiting to see if he fell, surged forward and took Guido's shock at what he had just seen and used it to her advantage. She slashed him across the throat and the blood quickly poured out of him, onto her stomach.

His hand clutched at his throat and he fell forward, his weight pinning her legs down. She tried to kick him free, then began to push his shoulders with her hands. She'd only freed one leg when she remembered Paulo. He appeared at her side and his well-aimed kick landed right across her face. Pain exploded and she saw stars for a moment.

She fell back, her back hitting the ground below her again and this time, she couldn't get up. The knife had flung free from her grasp. Pain reverberated in her head and as she let the waves roll over her, a pressure came down on her chest.

Paulo's boot was now pressed firmly down on her and he pushed until she began to struggle again, this time, just desperate to breathe. Her fingers grabbed at his ankle, but she couldn't find the strength to get him off.

"You bitch," he sneered at her and struggled with the sword at his belt, trying to pull it free, "you fucking whore! I'm going to enjoy making you squeal and beg for-UGH!"

Whatever it was he had planned to make her beg for, he never finished. Abigail watched as the tip of a sword suddenly burst forth from his chest, a look of pain and horror spreading over his features.

The blade withdrew just as quickly and the pressure fell away from her chest as his lifeless body suddenly fell violently to the side. She looked up and focused on her savior.

Jamie.

He looked down at her, still holding his bloodied sword in his hands. His eyes still blazed with fury.

He looked down at Guido's lifeless body, still trapping Abigail's legs. He pulled it off quickly, practically throwing him aside to free his wife.

Abigail had never been so relieved to see him before.

"Jamie!" Her hand weakly reached out for him, tremors coursing through her body as she could no longer control her emotions, "Jamie! JAMIE!"

He moved quickly, throwing his sword aside in favour of kneeling down, gently grabbing her and pulling her up into a seated position.

She held tightly onto him, crying in pain, relief, and the delayed terror she'd been fighting against. She could have died. If Jamie hadn't come...she would be dead.

He slowly began to rock her in his arms and she could hear him speaking, but her sobs and cries were so loud, it deafened everything else.

Finally, she managed to calm enough. He gently pulled her away, though she shook so violently, he feared to let her go completely. But he had to look at her. Had to see what they had done to her.

"Love," he said softly and his hand came back out to her bruised cheek.

Slowly, she raised her head and he took in all her injuries. All that they had done to her.

Her eye and nose were swollen, and blood trickled out of her nose and mouth. Dirt clung to where it had dried.

Her arms were covered in minor cuts and bruises, but he noticed the deep rip in her tunic. How the laces on her bodice had been loosened and he knew...he knew what they had intended to do to her.

"Jamie," her tears spilled down her cheeks and he could see her reddened eye where a blood vessel had burst, "you-you came!"

His hand moved to the back of her head, glad he had.

"I remember you were worried. About being watched and followed, so I thought- I thought I'd come and meet you along the road," he pressed his forehead against hers, regretting that he hadn't been in time to save her from what they had already done, "I'm sorry I came so late."

Abigail felt no blame. She had never actually been more thankful he turned up when he did.

"You came! You came!" She cried out, a whole new set of tears falling as she clung to him.

He went to say something else, but they both heard it. The shouts approaching them. The clamour of heavy boots.

Someone had sent the constabulary.

"Come on, hold onto me," Jamie held Abigail and pulled her slowly to her feet. It didn't escape his attention her tiny whimpers of pain as she stood straight up and the way she clung to him.

Officers quickly surrounded them, but they didn't seem ready to arrest either of them. On the contrary, the constables were looking down at the bodies in disgust and the Corporal approached Jamie, with worry on his face. Jamie knew this man. Corporal Michael Kenley. They'd talked many times when Jamie was in the town and he'd even invited him over to Supper with them in a week.

But right now, that seemed unlikely as Abigail clung onto him and Michael looked between the two.

"What happened?! Are you two alright?!"

"I came to meet my wife," Jamie knew he should not lie, but he would not let Abigail take the fall for what had happened, "I found these men attacking her. I killed them. My wife-"

Abigail leaned in close to him and whispered, "I'm fine. Tell them I'm fine. Please."

Jamie looked aghast. She wasn't fine. Had she fallen on her head too hard?

"Love...they can see you're not."

Michael, overhearing that last part, stepped closer, lowering his voice.

"Mrs. Norrington, do you need a doctor?"

Jamie felt her hands grip him roughly.

"No. Please, I would just like to go home," she said as politely as she could, but Jamie already knew. She didn't want to deal with anything else tonight.

"If I can come to meet you tomorrow and make a statement, I'll take her home and have her looked at in the morning?"

He knew it was against protocol and he was asking ALOT, but Abigail was not alright. She was shaking and whilst she was quiet, Jamie could feel her ready to burst into hysterics.

"...Aye'. Norrington, I'll see you tomorrow. Take care of her tonight," Michael looked about him and pointed to one of the constables, "Manley, gather Mrs. Norrington's things!"

He turned back to her and Abigail somehow found the strength to slowly raise her head and look at him, her tears dry.

"Mrs. Norrington, are you-"

"I'm-I'm fine," her speech slightly slurred and she stumbled against Jamie, rendering her statement in-factual. He tightened his hold on her and held her close.

"Corporal," Jamie needed to end this conversation and get her home, NOW, "goodnight. Sorry about the mess."

Michael nodded and stepped out of his way. The constable that had gathered her things held out the basket and Jamie quickly took it, looping it over his arm.

Neither looked back as they walked away, though Jamie went slower than expected when Abigail clung to him and seemed to struggle in his grasp. He felt her shake with effort and knew he couldn't allow her to walk any farther.

"Put your arms around my neck, Love," he stopped walking and waited for her to do just that before he bent over and scooped her into his arms. She cried out for a moment and he walked at his normal pace, trying not to jostle her.

"Jamie!" She called out again, making him stop, "Your arm. Please, move your arm!"

He didn't need to ask her why. He saw the pain in her face. He carefully pulled her closer to lean against him more and raised his arm to rest against her upper back. Whilst it was uncomfortable for him, he would not complain.

Abigail's whimpers died down the closer they got to their house, but he had a feeling she was fighting to keep them down. Her forehead rested against his neck and he felt how hot she was. He'd remembered her temperature and the pain she had suffered when she had The Fever and quickened his pace, hoping to help her as speedily as he could.

She cried out as he jostled her accidentally, but he didn't slow down.

"Just hold on, Love," he near broke into a run as the house came into sight, "we're nearly there."

The hand on his shoulder dug in painfully enough so that it ached for him. But it hurt more to know she was in worse pain.

Finally, they arrived back home. He immediately put the basket down as soon as the door opened and walked straight upstairs with his wife, still trembling in his arms.

He walked into the bathroom with her and stopped in the middle of the room.

"Love. I'm going to put you down now, alright?" He said softly, but even he was reluctant to let her go. He just wanted to keep holding her. Letting her know he was there.

She nodded and relaxed her hold on him and he placed her down on her feet. She didn't stumble but managed to stay standing long enough for him to help her over to the chair in the corner. She sat slowly down and he pushed her hair back and away from her face.

"I'll leave you to change whilst I fill up the tub, all right?" He pressed a kiss to her forehead and turned away, going as quickly as he could and not wanting to leave her alone too long.

Each trip he made, it seemed she had barely moved. She took her time removing her outer layers, though he tried not to look as she struggled. If she wanted help, he would give it to her, but he wouldn't ask. Not when he could see her wanting to do it herself.

On the fifth time, when he had enough water, he walked in to find her standing, her hands on the bottom of her tunic. She was crying again.

She looked up at him when he entered.

"Jamie," she whimpered and let the fabric fall from her hands.

He put down the last bucket and made his way over to her.

He knew she needed help now.

"Ok, tell me where it hurts," he grabbed the bottom of the tunic and slowly began to raise it, "try not to move if it does, and I'll...I'll work around it."

"Just...Jamie, just get it off me," she shut her eyes as fat tears fell down her cheeks, "it's ruined. Get it off me, please."

He looked down at the tunic and even with the rip in the front, there was no way she'd be able to wash out the blood splatters over it. She was right.

"I'm going to rip it. Hold still."

As he moved his hands to the damage and slowly began to tear it apart, he saw the shudder move through his wife. She remembered the feel of Paulo's hands on her as he greedily grabbed at her.

"Love, please. Quickly."

Jamie nodded, even though her eyes were shut and quickly ripped it straight down the middle until it was open.

"Alright. Turn around, let's get this off of you."

Slowly, she turned her back to him and as he pulled the fabric off and down her arms, he only stopped when he saw the reason for her pain. A large, ugly bruise was beginning to form on her back and it spread to the size of a boot print. He gripped the fabric in his hands, his anger bubbling to the top again.

"Jamie," she looked over her shoulder at him, "please."

He moved again, pulling the fabric off of her arms, carefully. She turned about again and he saw the other bruise on her stomach. Smaller, but still distressing to look at.

Her hands came to his shoulders and she leaned against him, her head rested against his chest.

"It hurts," she quietly whined, her quivers beginning to build back up again.

His arms came about her, though his hands avoided the bruise on her back.

"I know. I'm sorry," he gently shifted her around and urged her to move, "come on, into the water. It'll help."

Jamie helped her clamber into the wooden tub and kneel down. He reached for the last bucket of water he'd heated up on the stove and poured in it, though he made sure to avoid scalding her as he did so. Abigail visibly seemed to relax, her body sagging as the water washed over her aching legs.

She longed to lie back and let the water soothe her, but her back and stomach protested far too much.

Without saying anything else, Jamie removed his coat, cast it aside and reached into the water, grabbing at the washcloth. He carefully began to move it over her skin, washing away the dirt and blood.

She shut her eyes and let him work over her tender, sore flesh. She would have enjoyed it more, had it been in better circumstances.

When his hands came to her shoulders, he held her chin in his hand and turned her towards him.

"This will hurt. Sorry," he winced as he began to dab at the blood that clung to her skin, her mouth, nose, and chin stained. She kept her eyes shut and bit on her tongue to stop herself from crying out. She didn't want him to feel guilty about hurting her when he was just trying to help.

Finally, satisfied that she was clean, he dropped the cloth and held her face in both his hands.

"Open your eyes, Love."

She did as he asked and he checked her over.

"Can you see out of that eye?"

She nodded at him, though it was a bit difficult, but only because of the swelling.

"Alright. Hold still. I need to check your nose."

Carefully, his thumbs came to her cheeks and slowly began to move inwards. When they reached the irritated skin of her nose, her eyes kept fluttering open and shut as she fought back against the pain. And despite herself, she had to vocalise it.

"Ow," she whined again, but Jamie didn't stop until he moved his thumbs over the bridge of her nose. Since she didn't cry out or recoil, he took that as a good sign.

"I know, but It's not broken. That's good news, Love. You wouldn't want me to reset it," he laughed joylessly and stopped moving his thumbs, just holding her face to look at her. She could only gaze back sadly at him.

"...do you want to talk?"

She shook her head at his request.

"I don't know. I don't know what I want."

"I'm here. For whatever it is you need, I'm right here," his thumbs stroked soothing circles over her undamaged skin.

"...I'm tired," she told him, all her energy gone. She felt heavy. Spent.

"I know. I'm going to check the medicine and then we'll go to bed, alright?"

Abigail nodded at him, knowing whatever they had might help take the pain away.

He moved about to the small box in the corner and pulled out what was necessary, glad that there was still both Arnica and Comfrey tincture inside. He'd been in enough battles and fights to know what healed the best and what would help with the pain. He was just disappointed in his own reliance on the drink that they could not have alcohol in the house, whiskey being a good and quick reliever of pain. But he doubted Abigail would enjoy it, even with the promise of momentary pain relief.

He made his way back over and treated each of her wounds the best he could. The tinctures and creams went around her eye, back and stomach and he left the bottles by the side of the tub, remembering he'd have to put them on tomorrow and the next day and the day after until the bruise was brought all out and could heal quickly.

He left her again, but only to get her nightdress from her trunk. When he returned, he helped her stand, slowly as she struggled to her feet. He let her climb out of the tub and helped her on with her nightdress. As soon as she was clothed, he neglected cleaning straight up in favour of helping her hobble out of the bathroom and towards their bedroom.

She stopped in the doorway and turned sad eyes to him when she remembered the basket downstairs.

"Oh...your coat fabric...it's dirty."

He was touched that she'd gotten him the material he'd been planning to get himself, but he shook his head. It wasn't important right now.

"It's alright. I'll wash it tomorrow. Come, to bed."

He helped her into their room and slowly lowered her to the bed. She automatically turned onto her side, her back to him as she got comfy.

"I'll be back," he pressed a kiss to her head as he pulled the covers over her waist.

He moved about the house quickly, tidying up the bathroom and going downstairs to grab the basket. Her tunic, he immediately tossed into the fireplace, ready to be burnt. The coat fabric he placed on the countertop and he removed all of the items inside, glad the bundles of food and jars of jams had escaped unscathed. That'd mean one less worry for Abigail.

Once finished, he moved back upstairs and into their room. She was still on her side, facing away from him and he quickly changed into his bedclothes. He'd just slipped his shirt on when he heard it. Her quiet, muffled sob.

He turned to her quickly and saw her shudder. Restraining all the hysterics she had building up inside of her. He quickly climbed on and into the bed, pulling the sheets over him. He was careful as he pressed himself up against her and his arm came around her chest, rather than her stomach. Instantly, her hand grabbed at his forearm and pulled it tightly around her. Despite her pain, she pushed back into him.

His lips pressed to the back of her head and he began to talk to her. He told her how much he loved her, how brave she was, and how he wasn't going to leave her. Over and over again.

Finally, her body stopped shaking and her breathing slowed. He laid his head down next to hers and shut his eyes, trying to calm himself. She was alive. He'd saved her life and she was with him now and regardless of how she was, it could have been worse. Right now, they both needed rest. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, they could talk.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_"We can take her back to her cozy little cottage and she can show us her hostess skills," he laughed at her desperate attempts to bat him away again, "how about it, Mrs. N?! Make him watch and then, string ya' both up! Having em' dance like puppets on a string!"_

_Abigail had not reached the basket in time. Two hands came to her ankles and pulled her back before she could get to it. Turned over again and screaming as all three sets of hands grabbed at her. Her wrists were pinned down, above her head. Her ankles were held down, spaced apart. Paulo moved over her and lifted her skirts._

_He ripped the fabric off her bloomers until they were no more than tatters. She cried out. She screamed. She begged him for mercy as he fiddled with his trousers and laid against her._

_When he entered her, her mouth hung open but she could not scream. No noise escaped her as he began to move. She shut her eyes as they jeered above her like wild animals. She had no strength as the pain seared through her body._

_When she opened them again, the world shifted. She was at home. They were still on her, Paulo still fucking her, but she was at home in her cottage._

_When he finished, they pulled her up easily, still laughing at her._

_Her eyes moved about and landed on Jamie. He was standing on his armchair, his hands bound in front of him and a noose tied to the rafters hung tightly around his neck._

_She felt her body lifted and a noose placed around her own. She couldn't fight back. She couldn't make a sound, though she tried. She could only look at the face of her terrified husband._

_"Say goodbye to your dearly beloved," Guido spoke close to her ear as Frank moved away. She finally managed to cry out, just as the armchair was suddenly pulled away from him. He fell about an inch before his body began to dance in the air._

_Her eyes never left his face. His fight. His desire and want to live. His desperate eyes, begging for help._

_She could hear them still laughing._

_Even when the fight began to leave him and the chair began to move from under her own feet, she still heard them._

_She shut her eyes tight as her weight gave and her feet left the cushion._

Abigail's eyes opened as she stared at the wall. Her mouth opened but...she couldn't breathe. She could see and feel but she was frozen. She could feel herself begin to panic.

She was dying.

Xx Jamie xX

Jamie had always prided himself on being a light sleeper. So when he felt his wife's body stiffen in his arms and heard the faint sounds of labored breathing, he awoke immediately. Knowing her pain, he sat up and pulled her with him.

Her eyes and mouth were open, but she was looking right past him. He could see the sheer terror in her eyes as she struggled to breathe.

He shook her, gently at first, calling to her.

"Abigail! Love, wake up!"

She blinked once, twice-

She took in a deep, shuddering breath and lashed out at him, screaming in terror as her mind began to trick her. He let her hit him, but he did not let her go.

"It's me! Love, it's your Jamie!" He called to her, his voice loud and clear, "You're home! You're home and safe!"

She stopped fighting him. She stared in horror at what she had just done. And a loud sob escaped her throat, followed by another and another until she began to bawl.

"Jamie!" She screamed, just as she threw herself forward, her hands grabbing at him, moving over him. Feeling he was real and there.

He rocked her back and forth and just knowing that he couldn't stop her pain and couldn't help her now...began to cry with her.

The next morning...

When Jamie awoke, he expected to find his wife still in his arms and tucked against his side. He was both surprised and worried when not only she wasn't there, but she appeared to have left the room without him noticing.

He dressed quickly and looked around upstairs first. No sign.

He made his way downstairs and knew she was close when the smell of tea drifted to his nose.

He found her, sitting at the table with a pot and two cups. She turned to him and his heart clenched when she smiled softly at him.

"Good morning."

There she was. His brave, wonderful wife. Fighting against the pain and smiling at him like normal.

"Good morning," he smiled back at her and took the seat opposite. He poured himself a cup and for a moment, they both sat silent, neither sure of what to say.

"I know it's a stupid question, but how do you feel?"

Abigail let out a small, quiet laugh.

"Like I went ten rounds with the crew of the flying dutchman," she winced as the skin of her lip pulled the wrong way and she looked beseechingly at him, "I couldn't look in the mirror...do I look awful?"

His hand reached out across the table and took her own.

"You could never look awful."

"Good thing you're a terrible liar," she looked away from him, staring at the contents of her cup. But her hand turned over and her fingers squeezed him tightly.

"I killed men before."

Jamie's brow raised in surprise at her sudden, shocking statement.

"I killed pirates on the Pearl...and men that had become monsters and those that stood in my way when I tried to get to you. But," she stopped dead and tears began to fall from her eyes again as she thought about what she had done. The guilt that set in.

Jamie understood that feeling too well.

"You never get used to taking a life."

Her eyes came back to his and they shared that moment. That understanding.

"The first man I killed, was a man trying to escape prison. He had a knife in his hands and was running down a street. A woman...came out of her house with her child in front of him. She didn't see him and he was running straight for her...so I shot him in his back. He died instantly and," he shut his eyes tight as he recalled the painful memory that still haunted him, "I can just remember seeing the woman grab her child and scream. That scream...she wasn't scared...it was her husband. He'd been running to them to try to get away...to hide," his other hand moved across his eyes, shielding Abigail from looking at his tears, "I'd been so sure he was going to hurt them and instead...I took his life in front of his family."

His hand fell away and where he'd expected horror and rejection, he found only sympathy and love.

"What you did yesterday...had you not done it they would have shown you no mercy. They would have...they would have beaten, raped, and killed you all for their amusement. No hesitation," he began to sob but didn't care, the thought of losing his beloved was too much, "I know it doesn't make your decision any easier, but anyone would have done the same thing. You fought to keep yourself alive."

Her own tears fell like a spring and she shook her head.

"I fought...I fought because I wanted to see you," her voice whined again and she shook as her own sobs wracked through her body, "they were going to make you watch...they were going to kill us both and I couldn't let them. I couldn't let them kill you!"

"Love."

He stood up and pulled her with him, his hand never leaving hers as he came around to her side of the table. Their arms came about one another and they just held on for dear life.

She sobbed his name, trying to push away the thought she could have lost him again. That they both could have died had he not come to greet her, remembering her worries.

His lips moved slowly over her head and when he pulled her back, he pressed gentle kisses to each of the wounds on her face. When his lips came to hers, his thumb brushed over her chin and she knew...she knew she had done the right thing. Because of this very moment. Because of the man she loved and who loved her.

He pulled away reluctantly and looked regretfully into her eyes.

"I promised Michael, I would go and see him. I need to make a statement-"

"No. I don't want you to go," she didn't care how selfish it sounded. If he went, they may arrest him for crimes he had not committed.

"I have to, Love. It's expected-"

"I'll come too. I killed those other two, you just-"

"Shh, no. No, Love," he told her firmly and shook his head, "I am doing this. You will stay here. If I'm arrested, I'll get someone to send you a message. But you can't come with me like this. Stay home and rest."

His lips pressed once more to her forehead before he pulled her back against him.

"Please. Please, come home," she shuddered against him, wanting nothing more than to hold onto him and not let him leave her.

"I'll try. I promise."

A few hours later...

When Jamie arrived home, Abigail was still in the kitchen. And to his surprise, she was actually cleaning, albeit slowly. Just running a cloth over the surface of the table. When he entered, she looked up at him and her entire face lit up. She was relieved.

"You're home," she moved slowly towards him and went into his arms. He tugged the cloth from her hands and shook his head.

"I am home and you are not to do anything. Not even light cleaning," he moved her back towards the kitchen, "come sit down."

Abigail was too weak and sore to protest. He was right. She'd find some more stuff to do in the next couple of days, but for now, she needed rest.

As she sat down at the table, her hands slipped into his and she looked up at him.

"What-what happened? Are you going to be charged?"

He shook his head and smiled at her.

"No. Apparently, our old shipmates had left a small trail after them: Burglary, assault, affray...they'd also murdered a young girl in the last town before coming here."

"...So they'll not take you in?"

"No."

He explained how Michael had filled him in on the details and how the men had even been wanted for 'piracy among all things!'

In situations like this, it would be easy to move on. At least, in legal terms.

"Michael, in fact, recommended me for a high position."

Abigail's worry must have shown on her face because he shook his head and told her, "I said no. Don't worry."

She looked away, but he also saw the worry replaced by guilt.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, her hands tightening around his.

"For what?"

"If-if you want to go back, you can. I'm sorry, I'm selfish. I just don't want you to get hurt-"

He knelt down in front of her and pressed her knuckles to his lips.

"I don't want to take the job. I don't want to risk my life. I've seen enough action, thank you," his hands fell with hers into her lap and he said with as much sincerity as he could muster, "I'd rather stay retired. And here with you."

Abigail began to cry again, but it wasn't because of the pain or guilt. It was because she loved him so much. That he truly did not want to go back to his old life.

When she stopped again, his hands stroked over the back of her forearms, light caresses so as not to hurt her.

"What do you want to do?"

_'Truthfully?'_

"...I want to go back to bed."

"For the whole day?"

"Yes, but I won't. Just for another hour. I don't want to sleep...just rest."

He understood and helping her stand, he silently picked her up and held her close as he walked her back upstairs. She made no protest, but buried her face into his neck and held him tightly.

As they lay together in their bed, holding on, Abigail fought back the pain in her stomach and back so she could lay facing him. His lips pressed repeated little kisses against her head. They were silent for the longest time before Jamie had to get it out.

"I'll always be here for you. I promise. You won't go through this alone. You'll never have to go through anything alone."

Her head slowly tilted so she could look up at him. She saw the love in his eyes and knew the words he spoke were true.

"My Jamie," her hand cupped his cheek and slowly stroked over his beard, "thank you."

But a niggling worry was still there for her. Something she had thought up when he'd left her alone to go to town. Something she had to ask herself.

"What if...what if more turn up? What if others recognise us?"

He was quiet for a moment as he thought about it and then his arms tightened around her.

"Then we'll fight them. Each one that comes our way, won't be standing long."

She knew he meant it. He would stand up and fight any many to the death that dared threaten her. And she had to let him know, she felt the same way.

"I'll not let anything happen to you."

He smiled at her.

"That's my line."

She gave him a shaky laugh, the most genuine one she had managed that day.

His hand moved to the back of her neck as the other rested over the one on his cheek.

"We can't live in fear. I won't let you."

"I'll not be afraid," her eyes bore into his and she finally felt a strange peace move through her, "with you...I'll never be afraid."

He pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers. Between gentle, tender, and heartfelt kisses, they shared one word. One word that meant everything to both of them.

"Together?"

"Together."


	15. Desire in the Darkness P1

Desire in the Darkness P1

When Jamie poked his head around the front door of his house and looked inside, he knew it would look odd to anyone that may have seen him.

Luckily, the one person that would have seen him was nowhere in sight.

"Darling?" He offered tentatively and waited for her reply.

_'Jackpot.'_

When he heard nothing, he knew she was still busy outback. Quickly, encase she choose that moment to walk back in, he entered, shut the door behind him and hurried into his study.

Once his own door was shut, he made his way over to his desk and placed his treasured find on top of it.

"No idea where I'm going to put you," he came around and sat down in his chair as he thought about the best place to hide the item, "but hopefully somewhere Abigail won't find you when she's cleaning."

The item in question was a small, square box, intricately carved with small flowers over the lid. He'd found it in the Antique shop and whilst it was not as old as the shopkeeper described it, he did see the Elizabethan accents in the flowers.

Something had pulled him to it. Called to him. And then, Nell the assistant had asked him what he had gotten for his wife's birthday and Jamie had literally picked up the box and not let it down again. He hadn't really forgotten, it had just...slipped his mind for the moment.

As he sat at his desk and pulled the box closer, he realised he hadn't had a proper chance to actually look at it earlier. At least, not the inside.

"If your hinges are broken, I will be extremely upset," he grumbled and cautiously opened the box, pleased that the lid not only seemed intact and flexible but didn't make any sort of squeaking noise as he did so.

The inside was not lined and luckily, no one had deemed to mark it with 'property of' or place any sort of mark of ownership. Carefully, he flipped it over in his hands, making sure the bottom had not a blemish on it either, when he noticed something odd.

He observed the bottom, side, and inside again and realised that the dimensions were all wrong. Who'd ever made this box had wasted valuable space and made the inside far too small. Abigail would only fit a couple of letters or items of jewelry inside and whilst her wedding ring was not large, he had a feeling that may not even shut under the lid.

_'Unless...'_

He prodded around inside for a bit, his fingers pressing along the edge until he found it.

"Ha! Got you!" Slipping his finger into the corner, he found the tiny button that had been used to wedge the bottom down and pulled it out.

After that, the false bottom that he'd guessed had been the reason for the odd sizing lifted out easily and underneath, he was pleased to find a secret compartment, in which lay a small piece of paper and an old, faded coin.

He lifted the coin out and since the markings had all but vanished, the only thing he could tell was that it was gold. But a tiny lump of gold, not enough to declare himself rich and run off to Abigail like an excited schoolboy.

He slipped the coin into his pocket and lifted out the old, crinkled papyrus. If he had made a guess, he would say this was sixty years old, possibly more. He had a wild idea that a small child had owned this box before him and left a little keepsake for the next owner. He remembered doing something similar with an old tin soldier in his mother's buttons tin and had been excited for a whole day. Until his dog dug it up and his mother had scolded him for taking the button tin without permission.

He took out the paper, unfolded it, and observed both sides. Only one had writing on it. No date. And not in English.

In fact, from what he could see, it was only tiny scratching written in Latin.

_'So, not a child. A scholar?'_

He couldn't recall any children leaving notes in Latin. Luckily, when he'd been sent off to school, he'd found comfort in learning new languages, especially during the holidays when he alone was not brought home.

Shaking off the distant, bad memories, he raised the note before him and read aloud:

_'Omnes, qui tecum auri tractamus meam, et furorem meum: et spiritus meus erit requires vestigio meque his exsolvite curis. Esto monitus, quia post tres dies, et tua est corpus meum quod solum meum est!'_

"Mine and mine alone!"

Jamie turned sharply in his chair and looked around him. Where had that voice come from?! He'd heard it, right next to his ear...hadn't he?!

He was alone. There was no one else in the room. And it had not been Abigail's. This voice was male but...there was something wrong with it.

Jamie stood up but immediately fell back down against the desk again. His head...his head felt like it was on fire!

He groaned and shut his eyes tight as the blinding pain spread. He gripped either side of his head and held on as he crumbled onto the floor on his knees.

And then as suddenly as it appeared...the pain was gone.

He opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times. His vision was...off...everything seemed a little brighter. And it hurt, it hurt to look around him, but he was relieved that the agony in his head had gone.

_'What was that?'_

Jamie could think of no logical or reasonable explanation. So, he did the only smart thing he could think of...he stood up and brushed it off. There had to be a simple reason for it and the pain had just...made him unable to think properly.

When he sat back down again, he folded the paper back up and placed it inside his desk. And after righting the box, he slipped that in on top and shut up the drawer. Abigail would not go in there unless she asked first and she always gave Jamie a chance to hide anything she didn't want to see (which was rare, because the only thing he'd hide was gifts for her).

All hidden and tucked away. Forgotten. The only lingering memory was the dull ache that seemed to be subsiding behind Jamie's eyes. But he wouldn't worry about it. Maybe he could talk Abigail into a wonderful head massage? Along with some other...relaxing remedies.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jamie felt strange. Light headed. The day and night had passed by in an odd blur. He felt restless and angry and the only thing that made anything better was Abigail.

Abigail.

His wonderful, beautiful wife had been a tremendous distraction for him. She'd come by and give him sweet kisses, offering her smiles. He smelt her skin and adored her scent.

But his thoughts...his thoughts clouded his mind and grew darker than he'd ever expected. When she'd bent over to refill the kindling under the stove, he'd found himself imagining grabbing her lovely hips, bending her over the kitchen table and taking her roughly there and then.

When they'd gotten dressed for bed that night, he'd watched her button up the front of her nightdress slowly. He'd wanted to reach over and listen to the sound of fabric ripping as he tore it from her, exposing her breasts to him.

And then, when she'd sat in his lap and rode him, he strained to concentrate on the moment. She clung to him and made all the noises he loved, but he wanted more. He wanted her to cry. To scream. He wanted her as a quivering heap in his arms, begging him to stop.

His hands had grabbed her hips and he held on as he watched her come undone, not wanting himself to lose control. He had been close, but the closer he drew to the edge, the stronger his wants grew. He'd lowered her down to the bed and held her tightly against him. And even with her sleepy protests, he assured her he didn't need to finish. All that mattered was her.

So, when he awoke the next morning, he'd immediately fetched a bucket of cold water, knelt naked in the tub and then, poured it over himself. He'd gasped and shuddered, but it had helped. His mind was clearer and his morning arousal had gone.

He changed back into nightclothes and busied himself tidying.

He fetched more water for his wife and made sure to heat some up on the stove for her when she came in.

He could focus on the day. He'd gone into his bedroom to grab his clothes, intent on actually tending to their small vegetable garden and-

"Good Morning."

He'd turned with a smile on his face and ready to greet his wife, but stopped and felt his body grow hot at the sight of her.

Abigail's usual morning routine was to always go and bathe after Jamie and he'd forgotten that she never undressed in the bathroom. No. She liked to stand straight up from waking, take off her nightdress, and stretch.

He watched her arch her back and raise her arms high in the air, her nightdress still dangling down and skimming the top of her head. Her eyes were shut and she smiled happily.

Still half asleep, when her eyes opened and she walked over to Jamie, she kissed him gently on the cheek and then walked past him, heading to bathe herself.

The thoughts returned with his growing arousal. And this time, Jamie found himself struggling to suppress them.

He wasn't sure how he ended up dressing and sitting at the kitchen table, but some time must have passed as he got lost in his own thoughts. He was never one for a vivid or creative imagination but...

_"Jamie."_

_His hands moved over her, pulling apart the flimsy material of her nightdress. The fabric tore easily in his grasp and he yanked it away, leaving her naked before his eyes._

_Her chest rose and fell as she took heavy, quick breaths. His hands grabbed her thighs and parted them, urged on by her frightened and wanton cry._

_He pulled her legs roughly so they were either side of him and grabbed her hips, squeezing the flesh and feeling her shudder._

_"Jamie...no."_

_He saw the look in her eyes. How she begged him not to take her. But he knew she wanted this. He knew that once he was inside of her, she'd cry out and cling to him. Her legs would wrap around him, urging him on and when his hands pressed down against her throat, she'd-_

"Jamie, have you seen my slippers anywhere?"

Jamie startled in his seat and turned his eyes up towards the ceiling, half expecting his wife to just materialise in front of him.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of his thoughts when Abigail called again from above, "Nevermind, found them! Behind the trunk!"

Jamie rubbed at his eyes and tried to concentrate. He had to stop himself from thinking about it anymore. He had to control himself.

Abigail came practically hopping down the stairs, in a vibrant and happy mood as usual.

"Morning! Did you put anything on?"

"Pardon?"

"I said, did you put anything on?"

Jamie shook his head.

"Good," Abigail quickly went into one of the cupboards and pulled out a jar that Jamie did not know they had, "because I hid some honey so we could have some more with the crumpets. And yes, I had to hide it or you would have tried to get it up into the bedroom again. And that stuff is awful to get out of the sheets."

Abigail was not helping his thoughts. He shut his eyes tight when he remembered how he'd talked her into letting him dribble honey on her stomach and lick it off. The stickiness and fun had outweighed the passion he thought he would feel. And yet it still stirred a desire deep within him. And for a moment...for the briefest moment, a black veil covered his vision and he felt the weight on his skull like someone was leaning against him. And whilst the veil lifted, the weight did not.

Xx Abigail xX

As Abigail began to step about, she didn't notice the way her husband watched her. She'd gotten used to him watching her as she happily went about, humming or talking as she cooked or baked.

But she didn't see the hunger in his eyes. The way he watched her sway.

She'd just moved around him to get something when she decided to stop and give him another kiss.

"Did you sleep well?" She bent low and went to kiss him on his temple, but instead of allowing her to do so, he turned quickly and caught her lips with his own.

She let out a small, muffled squeal, surprised by his sudden hunger and eagerness, more so when his hands came to the back of her head and held her in place. Her own hands came to his shoulders as his tongue slipped against hers, but she felt weak at the knees as he ravaged her mouth

Finally, he pulled away and when his hands fell from her head, she blinked dreamily at him and took a few, small breaths to calm herself.

"What on earth was that for?"

"Because I wanted you," he replied, his voice deep and husky.

Abigail stood slowly back up and smiled down at him.

"Oh...well, thank you," she felt all giddy, like a young schoolgirl, and turned again to walk away, when his hands grabbed her skirt and halted her, "what?"

Slowly, he stood, not letting go of her.

Hungry eyes bore into her own as his hands slipped around her waist.

"I want you," his lips hovered over hers and Abigail suddenly felt very hot all over.

"Jamie," she couldn't help but feel a little startled, considering all they had done was kiss and suddenly he wanted her, "now?!"

"Now."

His lips pressed to hers again and this time, she didn't make a surprised noise. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held on, allowing him to take control.

When his lips left hers, choosing instead to move across her neck and nibble at her skin, she was lost in the sensation as his hands began to move over her. She grabbed at his hair and threaded her fingers through it, enjoying the way his beard scratched her.

"Oh...Oh God," she heard a faint whistle coming from somewhere and struggled to listen to it, but it was difficult to concentrate when her husband suddenly cupped her breast through her dress.

The whistling grew louder and just as his hands moved over her backside, she remembered what could possibly make such a strange noise like that.

"OH GOD, THE KETTLE!"

Abigail hadn't meant to shove him away so brutally, but she turned back to the stove to see the kettle's lid rattling furiously. She pushed past him, darted over and quickly grabbed the edge of her skirts to grab the handle and pull it to safety.

"Crisis averted," she huffed and puffed and kept her back to Jamie, busying herself with putting it back down and making sure the water had not actually boiled over.

When she was satisfied that there was not going to be a small flood on the floor, she turned back around and found her husband in a new and unusual position. He was leaning over the table, gripping the edge with both hands, taking deep, shuddering breaths.

"Love?" She took a step towards him, worried he had suddenly come over sick, "Are you alright?"

Before she could reach and touch him, he stood up and shook his head.

"I need air. Sorry, I," he looked back at her, a worried expression on his features, "...I am sorry."

He turned and hurried away, walking out the back door without another word.

Abigail was a tiny bit worried but also put out. She was all...well, hot and bothered after that! She just hoped that after his fresh air, he may come back and carry on where he left off.

Later that night...

_Jamie's hand gripped Abigail's hips as he brought her back against him, his thrusts speeding up as his pleasure grew._

_His other, bunched into the back of her hair and pulled her head back, riding her as though she were no more than an animal._

_At this moment, with the noises she was making, she seemed to be. A wild animal, caught in his trap and at his mercy._

_Her hands tried to find something to hold onto, but they keep slipping on the sheets. Occasionally, she would reach back and grab his hand as he dug his nails into her skin, but she would just hold on. Desperately trying to cling to her own sanity._

_He bored quickly._

_He pressed inside of her and held her tightly against him as he thought of his next move._

_He pulled her again, this time tugging her so harshly she cried out in pain and was forced to press her back against his chest._

_His lips moved to her ear._

_"Up against the wall. Now."_

_She whimpered and shuddered against him, but slowly obliged. When he slipped out of her, she let out a small noise of protest that made him growl and shove her quickly forward._

_With her forehead and hands pressed against the wall, he moved behind her again._

_"Spread your legs, wider."_

_Again, she made soft noises but obliged him._

_Just the sight of her, ready and waiting for him...it still wasn't enough. He knew what he had to do._

_Moving forward again, he pressed himself against her, his hands grabbing and scratching over her flesh. Teasing her. Pulling more delicious noises from her._

_He slipped back inside her and waited. She took a deep, shuddering breath in and that's when he moved his hand around her throat and squeezed._

_He pressed her body up against the wall but pulled her head so his lips could attack her neck. Her hands pulled away from the wall and weakly tried to pull his hand from her throat, but he grabbed her with one hand and easily held both her by her wrists against her own chest._

_He was lost in sensation as she tightened around him. He sped up again, his lips close to her ear so she could hear him cry out when he reached his end. He could just hear her, struggling to breathe and broken words passing over her lips._

_"Jamie."_

A loud crack sounded in the room around him and...Jamie was no longer trapped, watching himself do this.

He sat up, breathing harshly, and feeling sweat pour over his face. The thunderstorm outside raged on, but it would pass.

Unlike these thoughts that seemed to plague his waking and sleeping moments.

"Jamie?"

He turned and found his wife, seated next to him with her eyes half-lidded and her hands moving over his shoulder. She wasn't one to wake up in the night and be alert, so it didn't really surprise him when she eventually found him and leaned herself against him. Still, she was worried, he could tell.

He took her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft, gentle kiss against her knuckles. She sighed contently and he knew...he could never hurt her like that. In his heart and mind, he would never.

"It's all right. Just a bad dream."

Abigail lifted her head and looked at him with sleepy eyes.

"Want some hot milk?" She yawned and shut her eyes again, though Jamie had a feeling if he had said yes, she would have gone downstairs and made him some to help him sleep.

He smiled to himself and shook his head.

"No...let's get back to sleep. Sorry."

She mumbled something that sounded like 'it's fine' and pulled him down with her. He moved about until his head rested against her chest and her hands threaded into his hair. She may have fallen straight back asleep, but that didn't stop her wanting to give him comfort.

And as he lay there, sleep not quite coming back to him, he thought about it. That dream...whatever it was, it would never happen. He wouldn't let it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Abigail came down the next morning and found her husband just standing by the door, gazing up and above it, she approached him slowly, wondering what on earth it was he was doing.

"Are you alright?" She came around his side and looked into his face. He stared intently above the door and when she followed his eye line, she realised what it was that had his full attention: Tia's pendant.

Without turning to her, he spoke.

"We should take that down."

"What? Where would you have it?" She had thought that above the door had been the best spot, but he obviously had other ideas.

"Anywhere...outside. We should bury it. It's a load of superstitious nonsense."

"What? No, it was a gift," she shook her head and laid a hand on his shoulder, trying to make him see reason, "and it's because of that-"

He turned so sharply to her and glared in such a way that she recoiled and blanched when he spat, "I don't care, I don't want it IN here!"

For a moment, Abigail was unsure of what to do or say. She wasn't frightened, just...angered, and surprised by his sudden nastiness.

"Jamie!" She took a step away so he wasn't as in her face and squared her shoulders, "What's wrong with you?! You've never had a problem with it before!"

Suddenly, all that aggression and nastiness dissipated and Jamie's hands rubbed his face.

When they came away, he looked shamefaced.

"I'm sorry, I-I'm not feeling well, Love," he turned away from her as pain ate away at him, his head spinning again, "I didn't mean to bark at you."

Abigail's own anger at his attitude had left as soon as she'd seen his tired and worn expression. She broke the distance between them and gently took his face in her hands.

"Oh, love," her cool hands ran over his neck and forehead, "you've got a fever. And you do look exhausted...go upstairs and get back to sleep, that storm probably kept you up all night."

Jamie shook his head, not wanting any more dreams.

"No, No, I-"

"Now it's my turn to put my foot down. Go upstairs and rest, please," she placed her hand on his cheek tenderly and smiled at him, "I'll come and check on you later after the work."

Jamie wanted to tell her he could work. That he could stay up and do it. But his head was pounding and he found, despite the dreams, he did want to go back to sleep.

"Alright," he pressed back eagerly when she gave him one of her sweet kisses, his lips lingering against hers just for a few seconds more. It relaxed him. Made him feel...safe.

Whilst reluctant to be alone in the bedroom, Jamie made his way up, pulled off his boots and coat, and laid back down on the clean and tidied sheets. He shut his eyes and just tried to fight against the pain. He took deep breaths and tried to clear his mind but everything felt so odd. The weight and pressure on his head. The pain. His vision going. He was so hot.

He lay there for what seemed like hours and at one point, he could have sworn he felt a gentle hand touch his head again. But he couldn't open his eyes to see who it was.

The heat was almost unbearable. When he next did open his eyes, everything was too bright...too colourful.

Struggling as he forced himself back up, he could only think about getting the window open and breathing in the cool air.

He made his way over, but before he could slide the pane up, the pain struck him again. He held on tightly to the wall and groaned, but not loud enough for his wife to have heard.

Blackness crept over his vision. Darkness took him. The last thing he heard was a dark, sinister laugh. And then...Jamie was asleep.

But whilst he slept...something else awoke. Something else that made James Norrington's body walk on its own.

End of part 1 xXx

Hello there! This is your humble bard and I would just like to take this moment to say that this specific part was inspired by the Karliene song of the same name. I strongly recommend giving it a listen AND...these particular chapter will be dedicated to the awesome Kellszack ;D I KNOW YOU'RE READING THIS! XD


	16. Desire in the Darkness P2

Desire in the Darkness part 2

Abigail looked out the window at the sun, still waiting to set over the hill. It wasn't quite night and the one thing she truly loved was watching the colours change in the sky. In another hour or so, the sky would be dark blue, before the stars came out. She hoped that her husband would be well enough to come and see them with her, but with his fever, his exhaustion, and his strange mood swings she thought he would be in bed for a day or two.

So when she went upstairs with a small tray of water and provisions to help aid him, she was pleasantly surprised to find him by the window, the shadow of the pane just across his face so she couldn't clearly see him. He turned to her as she entered through the door.

"Hello. How do you feel?" Slowly, she put the tray down on the side, pleased that she wouldn't have to look after him after all. Though she did admit to herself, she enjoyed looking after him, just not so much when he actually suffered.

"Fine."

She fussed around with the contents of the tray for a bit, pouring him a glass of water and turning her back on him, not seeing as he walked slowly towards her.

"I came to check on you at Lunch, but you were fast asleep. Did you want to come downstairs for dinner or rest? I'd like to get some food in you-"

"No. I don't want to sleep," he stood behind her now, but she only glimpsed briefly behind as she finished pouring the water.

"Food it is," she straightened up, quickly righting her apron, "now, I-"

"I want you."

His voice was right next to her ear and she jumped, though before she had a chance to turn around and look at him properly, his lips pressed against her neck and his hands moved over her waist and stomach.

"Oh...right now?" Obviously, she'd misinterpreted how sick he'd been...either that or he'd made a miraculous recovery with only a half a days rest. As his lips continued to move over her neck, her hand reached back and she laid it flat against his own neck.

"Well, your fever HAS gone down-oh!" She gasped as he began to suckle and bite her skin, slowly turning her about in his hands, "Love, you're definitely feeling better I see."

He growled at her and before she could properly look at him, his lips were pressed against hers. His hands moved again, holding her by the throat. A little thrill shot through her as his nails raked against her skin.

His hands were as rough as his kiss as his tongue claimed her mouth. And then...it was subtle, but...something was different. His roughness was not restrained. The nails on her skin dug in and his tongue pushing against hers was demanding. Furious.

She pulled back to catch her breath and his mouth came to her neck again. His teeth sunk in and his other hand grabbed her arm and squeezed, harder than the one around her neck.

She winced and tried to shrug it off. Her hands came to his shoulders, trying to calm him down.

"Jamie...Jamie, you're hurting me."

His touch did not stop. His mouth moved back to her ear and just before he resumed biting her, he said in a dark tone, "then stop fighting me."

That didn't sound like Jamie.

"What?" she pulled away and finally managed to look into his face, "Jamie, I said-"

She stopped dead when she looked into his cold, hard eyes. A shudder passed through her, but not a pleasant one. His once soft and gentle hazel eyes were now bright blue. She stared back at a stranger's eyes.

She recoiled and tried to pull herself free, but he still held onto her.

"What's wrong with your eyes?!"

Jamie's only answer was to stare at her and tighten his hold.

"Love...what's happening to you? Let me go, please," she tried to pull herself free, but to no avail, "Jamie, let me go!"

He jerked her in his arms to stop her from fighting and she yelped as her head shook violently.

Her pleading for him to let her go fell on death ears and she soon found herself pulled towards him. He held her close as he walked her backward. Back towards the bed.

Abigail tried to push him back, but not wanting to hurt him, could only shove at his shoulders and shout louder at him. The next thing she knew, she was on her back on their bed and Jamie was laying on top of her, his body pinning her down.

"No!" She cried out when his lips attacked her neck again, "Jamie, please! Please, stop!"

She shoved at him again and this time, he caught both her wrists in his hands and forced them together above her head. He held them easily in one hand as his other one wandered down her body.

"Jamie, please," she felt him pull her skirts up, gathering them to her stomach until he had access to her bloomers, "Love, look at me. It's me. It's your Abigail, please."

He didn't look at her. His mouth moved to the top of her breasts and his teeth sunk into her flesh. She cried out in pain and tried to pull her hands free, but he was too strong. In all the times she'd ever been attacked...she never thought she'd have to fight back against her own husband. A man she loved and trusted.

"Jamie, no!" She screamed when she felt his hand move inside her bloomers. He wasted no time and finding her dry, began to rub firm, hard circles over her, trying to get her ready.

Abigail felt tears begin to gather. How could he?! How could he break his promise to her?!

"Jamie, you promised! YOU PROMISED ME!"

She finally seemed to get his attention and when those awful eyes looked back at her, she could only see confusion and curiosity in them. He didn't remember.

"You swore! You came all this way to find me! The first night we were together in this bed! Remember?! You promised you would never force me! You said-" Abigail choked on a sob as his fingers slowed and he listened intently to her, "you said you'd always ask! That-that you'd always ask if I want this and never force me! And I don't! I don't want this! Please, love-please!"

For a moment, she saw something in his expression. The recognition.

His hand stilled.

"Yes...please, Love," she begged him, hoping to reach him.

A sudden, malicious grin spread over his face and without warning, he pushed two fingers inside of her, thrusting in and out, viciously. His thumb moved back over clit at the same time and he watched as she cried out at the pain and the pleasure.

He leaned forward again as he felt her tighten around his digits. He listened to her cries, her moans, and her pleas.

"I'll make you want this," his lips were by her ear again and he bit her lobe, causing her to cry out in pain again.

Despite the pleasure, he was forcing upon her body, she knew something was terribly wrong. Jamie would never do this. She did not know those eyes. This was not her husband.

"Get off me!" She tried to wriggle free, but his legs were painfully pressed against her own, forcing her down onto the bed, "Get off me, please! Stop this!"

"It'll be easier and more enjoyable if you stop fighting, bitch!" The harsh voice spoke to her again and the fingers inside of her sped up and curved.

"No," Abigail whimpered when she felt her body betray her and she neared the height of ecstasy, "No, Jamie-Ah!"

She turned her face away, ashamed as she felt her orgasm take hold. Her hips bucked against him as he continued to rub her. She bit down on her lip to stop her sounds.

The hand around her wrists disappeared. It moved to her chin and grabbed her, forcing her to face him. His lips crashed down on hers and since her hands were now free, she grabbed hold of his shoulders and tried desperately to push him off. His fingers slipped out of her and slowly moved over heated, sensitive flesh, spreading her wetness around.

His hand then moved out of her bloomers and as he pulled his lips away from hers, she saw the amused malice in his eyes. He brought his hand up for her to see and rubbed his wet fingers together.

"You're ready."

Abigail felt disgusted. Not only at what he had made her do but the fact that whoever this was, was a stranger.

Seeing her scorn, he moved quickly, his lips and teeth attacking her neck as his hands moved lower. She felt him fumble with his belt buckle and the laces of his trousers and her panic grew again.

She hit his shoulders and back and screamed at him to stop, but he carried on, growling against her neck. Her fight urged him on. She knew she had to get him off of her. She knew that...she had to hurt him. It pained her to do so, but she had to.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered and prepared herself, "I'm so sorry, Love."

Abigail's hand came to his face and with one, quick swipe, she scratched his cheek and pulled at his hair. He pulled back with a cry, flinching away and clutching at his cheek.

His legs moved slightly and that was all she needed. Her leg came out and she tucked her foot against his gut and shoved him as hard as she could. He fell back and off the bed, landing on the floor with a grunt.

She'd never moved so quickly in her life. She scrambled off the bed and ran from the room. She knew as soon as she was out of the door, that her husband was already up and after her.

She rounded the banister of the stairs and had only made it down halfway before her 'husband' decided to take a shortcut. He jumped over the side of the stairs and landed in front of her, a few steps below.

She screamed. She'd never been scared of him before and this...this was her worst nightmare. She didn't know what he was capable of.

"Jamie! Love, please," Abigail shook and looked at the man who wasn't her husband, calmly approach her as she took steps back, "you're scaring me, Jamie. You're not yourself."

He grinned at her and continued to push her back until she was at the top of the stairs. She knew he was pushing her back until she had only one way to go.

There was no way past him. And other than the bathroom and the empty bedrooms, there was nowhere else to go.

But her bedroom door had a lock. And the key was still in the door. She hoped he had forgotten.

She ran quickly back to their bedroom and shut the door. She heard his hurried footsteps and had just enough time to turn the key before he tried the handle.

She flew back from the door and waited.

When he knew what she had done, he was silent for a moment, not even rattling the doorknob.

Abigail actually cried out again when he knocked on the door. Three times.

"Open the door," he asked in his usual polite voice, "come on, darling. I'm not mad."

"Go away. Whoever you are, go away!" She sobbed again and frantically looked around for things to help her. She needed to block the door. Quickly, she moved over to the trunk and pulled it. It screeched on the floor as she did so, but she wouldn't give up.

He knocked again and she felt like he was mocking her.

"Darling, come along. Don't be silly. Open this door," he stopped and seemed to listen as she pushed the trunk in the way, "what are you doing, you little bitch? Open the door, I said."

Not caring about the mess, Abigail then pushed the table in front of the trunk, scattering the contents of the tray everywhere, water sloshing onto the floor.

He began to hammer at the door.

"OPEN THIS DOOR!"

He could break it down. She knew he could, easily. With the last bit of her strength, she quickly moved the bed around, and whilst it didn't block the door entirely, it bought her some time.

She heard him begin to shoulder it with all his might and it would only be a matter of time.

_'Think, think!'_ She turned around frantically. She wouldn't be able to fight him off again. She also knew, that even in this state, she'd hesitate to do any farther, permanent damage to him.

Her eyes caught the window. It was her only shot.

She opened the pane of glass quickly and looked down. It wasn't a long fall, but she'd most likely break something if she merely jumped.

However... directly below was another window for the living room. The little wooden frame jutted out and if she could JUST get her foot on there as she dangled down, she may be able to cross over to the doorframe and scamper down.

It was worth a shot.

She sat down on the side, still listening as her husband continued to break down their bedroom door with all his weight against it. Carefully, she held on to the side and lowered herself down as far as she could go. She stretched her feet out. She was so close if she could just touch it with her toe-

Something splintered and a heavy piece of furniture scraped against the floor. She froze, hoping he wouldn't spot her hands.

"GET BACK IN HERE!" He roared from above and Abigail stretched her toes again, trying to get to the frame below.

His face suddenly appeared above her and his hands moved to grab her wrists. She screamed and in her panic, she reflexively let go. She looked into her husband's face, hoping to see the change back.

For a moment, the eyes went dull. A familiar flash of worry passed over his features. But she lost it when she tumbled to the ground and all she could see was the darkening sky above.

When her back hit the ground, she felt the wind knocked out of her and her body flare up in pain. But as she took deep breaths, she quickly checked what limbs she could still move.

Apparently, nothing was broken. She was lucky.

When her eyes opened again, she saw him. Still looking down at her from the window.

And despite the distance and the worry she'd seen, his eyes were still blue.

He disappeared suddenly and she could not hear where he was. She knew he was coming for her. Fear and adrenaline helped her ignore the pain and she pushed herself up and off the ground.

She pushed herself up and onto her feet, just managing to break into a quick walk out of her garden when she heard him from the open doorway.

"Get back here!"

Her walk turned into a run and then a sprint. Her terror urged her on and she felt like the very hounds of hell were on her heels. She only turned briefly to see if he was following and of course, he was running behind, calling after her to come back.

She continued to run, ignoring the tears that fell down her face. She grabbed at her skirts when they threatened to tangle in her legs and pulled them out of the way.

"Darling, please! I'm sorry!" He called after her, but even then she didn't stop. She couldn't trust him as he was. His pleas and apologies quickly turned back into insults and threats and even when she quickly threw herself into the wood by the road, she didn't stop.

The night was coming earlier than she had thought. She was losing light, but she didn't stop running until she looked over and saw...nothing.

She ran forward more before checking again. She had seen right, he wasn't there. But that didn't mean she could rest.

She ducked down and out of sight behind the biggest tree, she could find. She pressed her back against it and waited, trying to keep her breathing quiet, even though it felt like her heart was about to burst forth from her ribcage.

She heard him call to her. She heard her name on his lips and his sweet voice, begging her to come back. She heard endearment, followed by insult and threat and then, back to an apology.

The last sentence she heard sent a chill through her entire being.

"I'll fucking kill you. I'll kill you both. Come out, you whore!"

Abigail shook against the tree and waited. She listened for him to pass her by. He was distant, but he drew no closer to her hiding spot.

Finally, the sounds disappeared and without hesitating, she stood and quickly made her way out the opposite way she'd come in, stopping occasionally just to listen and make sure he was not close by.

When she made her way out of the wood and found herself on the road, she knew she could not go home. She ran quickly, heading towards town and only stopped when she saw the smaller, beaten track that led east.

There was someone who could help her. Possibly the only person that could.

Xx Winnie xX

Inside the small, brightly lit shack was a number of ornaments and oddities, strewn about from shelves and hanging from the rafters. From freshly skinned animals to things that squirmed, alive, and well in jars, Winnie's little cottage was...unique to all that had ever seen it.

And she liked it that way. Those that came to her for help knew full well she was good at her profession. And whilst she was no high priestess, she was still a very skilled witch.

Tonight was her night off however since the sabbath day also happened to coincide with her 'rest and pamper' day. This mostly consisted of topping up tinctures, lotions, medicines, and potions and then, retiring in front of her warm fire with a cup of tea and a book. One of her favourite pastimes was to read out ONLY the best bits of the book.

"As Leonardo tore his shirt from his Milk white skin, he turned to Violet and took her in his strong, muscly arms. Her hands splayed out over his well-toned and-OH BOLLOCKS," Winnie cried out when there came an insistent hammering at her door, "that was the best part!"

Hearing the hammering was not going to stop until she got it, she bookmarked her page, grabbed her stick, and began to hobble over, grouchy that her arthritis was giving her jip today.

"Oh, what?! Have the trials started again?!" She yelled out when the pounding continued and felt her self control slowly begin to unravel, "I'm bloody coming! If you pound again, I'll put a curse on ya'!"

She knew it was important when even that didn't stop the person on the other side from banging on her door.

Carefully, she slid the bolt away and pulled it open to find what was meant to be a familiar face.

But Winnie took in Abigail's appearance and gasped in shock.

"Bloody Nora, What the hell happened to you, hen?!"

Abigail didn't know how she must have looked, but Winnie would give her a pretty accurate description later.

Imagine being greeted at your front door by a dirty, disheveled, bruised, sobbing, and breathless friend, who for some reason had taken to having twigs in her hair.

Abigail tried to get her breath back from her run and calm herself down.

"I need...I need help, Winnie. Something has happened."

"Oh, I can see that...come in, pet, come in," Winnie waited until her friend was inside before shutting the door again and sliding the bolt over.

Abigail finally let out a shaky breath of relief. Jamie had not followed her. And right now, for the moment, she was safe.

Her tears fell again and Winnie's arm came around her shoulder as she guided her back towards her chair.

"Come, sit down love," she instructed Abigail and forewent her stick, choosing to cheat a little instead. She took a deep breath and allowed the magic to wash over herself. She stood straight and the pain of her arthritis was gone and momentarily forgotten.

She hustled about quickly and gave Abigail a blanket and some tea, seeing her friend was in an extremely high, emotional state.

She pulled another chair opposite, grabbed her pipe, and looked at Abigail. She could tell she'd been attacked but she needed to know how and by whom.

"Tell Winnie what happened."

Abigail let it all out. She began to talk about her husband attacking her and then, quickly backtracked to his odd behavior over the last couple of days.

When she came back to the part where he'd held her down and tried to force himself on her, she broke down in tears again.

"I don't know what's wrong with him...I don't know what to do. Winnie," she raised her head and looked at the woman in the chair opposite, "what's wrong with him? What's wrong with my husband?!"

Winnie puffed at leisure on her pipe as she thought. She had a few ideas but only one came straight to the front of her head.

"Well, deary... by the sounds of it and...I hate to tell you this, but it sounds like your husband has made contact with a departed spirit and they've...taken a shine to his body and mind."

Abigail thought about those words carefully.

"You mean...possessed? But how I-"

"Has he come into contact with any old or strange items recently?"

"Urm...I don't know. I wasn't with him always...he did visit the antique shop a few days ago."

"Oh, I love that shop. They had some beautiful candle holders in there."

Abigail blinked a couple of times, watching her friend puff away on her pipe. Maybe she'd been wrong about the help. But then...Winnie DID have her ways.

"Alright, I can help you," Winnie stood up and walked over to her table, "but you won't like it."

"Winnie, I'll do anything, please," Abigail stood up as well, holding her still full cup close to her chest, "just...tell me what I have to do to help him?"

Winnie turned around suddenly and held out a small dagger that she'd plucked from the surface of her worktop.

"You can cut him with this. Spirits are not fond of iron."

Abigail gawped. Whilst the blade was tiny, she was still shocked that Winnie had suggested she injure her own husband.

"Pardon?!"

Winnie turned on of her endearing, if slightly 'mad as a hatter' smiles on Abigail.

"Just a nick. A cut, really."

Abigail licked her lips and thought carefully about her next choice of words.

"Winnie...is there another way?! I'd rather not have to scar my husband."

"Oh yes, a few," Winnie not only named the other choices for her but went into great detail about what would be done during rituals and ceremonies. Most of which involved killing chickens and being naked outside.

When Winnie stopped talking, Abigail felt a whole weight fall over her.

"This...this isn't going to be simple, is it?"

"Oh, nothing is ever simple. Especially with the supernatural, my Dovey," Winnie thought again and remembered something important, "do you still have that talisman that sea witch gave you?"

"Yes, why?"

"Good. You can use that to help him. It's a symbol of your love, isn't it?"

Abigail thought about it and realised that not only was that true, but that must have been the reason why 'Jamie' had wanted her to be rid of it. The stranger inside of him had sensed its power.

Winnie began to bustle about again, explaining to Abigail the ins and outs of spirit possession. She looped a small pouch onto some string and then, secured it around Abigail's neck. Whatever was inside gave out a rather...strong odor.

"Winnie, what will this do?" Abigail allowed Winnie to push the pouch down her dress, so it rested quite comfortably between her breasts.

"It won't allow whatever it is that has your husband to have you. Spirits like to jump sometimes when they find better vessels. Especially when they're bored."

"It won't help him?"

"No dear...only you can do that. That Talisman she gave you? If you can get it on his person, it may help. If not," Winnie pressed the tiny knife into Abigail's hand and tried to be gentle when she said, "just a cut, remember."

As Winnie talked with her, reassuring her what to do and how to do it, Abigail tucked the tiny dagger into her pocket and vowed to use it as a last resort. And when she made her way out of the shack, she was surprised when Winnie offered to accompany her.

"I know I can't be much help when my old bones give out again but-"

"No, no, it's alright...if he's willing to hurt me, then I don't want him going for you."

"If you're sure, Hen...if it doesn't work, you come straight back here. Then...we'll sort it out if it comes to that."

Winnie gestured for Abigail to come forward and opened her arms. Despite her small stature, Winnie gave her a hug that made Abigail feel safe and secure. It was very much how Jamie hugged her.

She moved away, promising to come by the day after to let Winnie know how it went. She hoped she would have good news. Because as she headed back along the road and back towards her house, the light had disappeared and the stars were beginning to come out, one by one. And yet...Abigail had never felt more lost.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Abigail was cautious when she walked back up her garden path. She listened intently and looked around her. If Jamie had come back, she could hear nothing but the sounds of the night. The house was bathed in darkness.

She found her front door wide open and took one, careful step inside. She held her breath and waited, her eyes scanning the room and the shadows, trying to see if he was there and waiting for her.

Nothing.

Still, she was quiet. She wouldn't call him to her when she had a job to do. Moving quickly, she moved his armchair back over to the door. She stood up on the cushion and carefully lifted down Tia's necklace. She tucked it into her other, empty pocket, and got back down. She moved the armchair back to where it was so he wouldn't clock on and looked around again.

Where could he be? Had he even come back? Was he still looking for her in the woods?

Aware of every sound and looking carefully as she went, she searched around the house. He was not upstairs and the chaos from their earlier fight had not been disturbed. No other room had been touched and nothing else seemed out of place.

Slowly, she made her way back downstairs and when she came to the bottom, she realised there was one place she had not looked. The door to his study was closed.

She licked her lips nervously and grabbed the handle with shaking hands. She turned it and pushed against the wood. She held her breath as she looked inside, the tension inside of her tightening until...nothing. No one was in there.

She-

A hand suddenly covered her mouth and an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against a strong, familiar chest. She screamed in shock and horror as Jamie pulled and lifted her, trying to get her away from the door. Her hands came out and tried to pull him off, her feet kicking desperately. She felt a few of her kicks land against his legs, but it was the elbow that came out and caught him by the side of his head that made him drop her.

She stumbled forward and breaking free, turned herself about until her back hit the wall and she held on as she faced off against her attacker.

Jamie picked himself back up off the floor and glared at her. He only took one step forward before she screamed at him.

"YOU DO NOT COME ANY CLOSER!" All her rage and anger from earlier was unleashed, her worry for her husband pushing them both to the top, "You will not touch me again!"

She could see the fury and hunger, sparkling in the blue eyes, but he stopped. He looked at her and she took in her husband's ghastly appearance. His skin was deathly pale, his posture bent and crooked. It was as if what was inhabiting him was already turning his body into something else.

She was having none of it.

"I don't know who you are...but I want to speak to my husband," Abigail felt herself fighting tremors and tried to get a leash on her anger, knowing it would do no good, "and I want to speak to him NOW."

The smirk he gave her let her know she was still not in the presence of her beloved.

"Jamie," she knew he was in there somewhere and tried desperately to get to him, "Love, it's me. Please, if you can hear me, I need you to fight it. Please, Jamie."

For a moment, his face looked away from her and he seemed to be in pain. When his voice spoke, it was soft. Gentle.

"Love?"

Abigail hesitated but had to try to get him on her side. If she could get him to take control long enough, she could get the necklace around him.

"Jamie. Keep fighting, love. Please," she took a tentative step closer as he remained still and not looking directly at her, "I know it must hurt terribly, but-"

She screamed when he dove at her again and pushed her back up against the wall. His hand enclosed around her throat and pushed her so violently, her head smacked into the wall and she cried out in pain.

Her hand reached into the pocket that held Tia's necklace, pulled it out, and tried to push it against him, but he saw it coming. He grabbed her wrist and smashed it against the wall, three times until she had to let it go, for fear he'd break her wrist if she didn't.

It skittered on the floor and she didn't see where it went as his attentions were suddenly back on her.

His hands moved to the laces of her bodice and pulled and tore the cord until there was nothing there. She knew he wouldn't stop and forgetting his strength, her hand came up and she slapped him hard across the face.

For a moment, he was still again as his eyes bore into hers. Fury blazed. He didn't hesitate as he backhanded her hard across her mouth. Abigail fell to the side and held her face, dazed. She'd never experienced the full force behind her husband's hits. He'd hit her so hard, her lip had split and she felt the warm blood in her mouth. She was lucky he hadn't knocked a tooth out.

Swiftly, before she had a chance to register what was happening, he grabbed her ankles and tugged her towards the center of the room. She clawed at the floor and tried to grab any pieces of furniture or rug that would help her. It was when she tried to kick her legs free that she saw Tia's necklace, laying abandoned at the bottom of his armchair. She tried to turn herself about and get free, but it was too late.

He stopped and seeing he couldn't exactly drag her upstairs as she was, made do with the floor. He straddled her hips and tried to grab her wrists again, but she kept pulling them away.

Her struggle and lack of tightness around her bodice made the pouch fall loose. His eyes fell on it and he grimaced. But where she had expected him to recoil from it, he merely grabbed it and held it out to the side, trying to pull it free. The cord tightened around her neck for a moment and she panicked, grabbing at it held fast around her throat.

Jamie smiled at her and pulled harder, luckily causing the strap to break. She held the flesh where the cord had dug in and found no open wounds, thankfully.

But she was no longer safe. She remembered what Winnie had said and now, she too was at the mercy of whatever had control of her husband.

His hands quickly pulled up her skirts and grabbed the fabric of her bloomers. He pulled and tore, even as Abigail pushed and tried to hit him, her knees locking together as he got them down. He ripped them off when he grew frustrated in fighting her and finally got her bare.

His hand suddenly came to her neck and held her down as he moved on top of her. His hips pressed down against hers and his legs kept her knees separate. His other hand tried to fumble with his belt buckle again and Abigail knew she wouldn't be able to fight him off this time. Nor would she be able to run far. He wasn't going to let her get away this time.

She thought quickly. She had to get to Tia's necklace. She had to get him off of her long enough to get to it. But how? She couldn't scratch or hit him again and his hand on her throat was-

The dagger. It was still in her pocket! But she couldn't very well reach down and grab it. He would see her, just as he had when she tried to get the necklace on him. She had to get him close. Stop him from suspecting her hands were grabbing something else.

She had an idea. It was risky, but...there wasn't any other way. Her hands came to either side of his face and pulled him down. He was shocked when her lips pressed to his with as much passion as she could muster.

It was still her husband in there somewhere. He was still in there and she knew what he liked.

She slipped her tongue into his mouth and moaned in what she hoped was a wanton fashion. She let go of his face but made a small noise of protest when he pulled back to look at her.

He was confused at her sudden willingness and eagerness, but the hunger stayed. His grip around her throat softened as he watched her.

Her hands moved down, purposefully, slowly and he watched her. She moved past the pocket in her skirt and instead, grabbed a chunk in each hand.

She pulled the fabric up until she was almost bare to him and then rolled her hips, trying to make contact with his.

He growled at the sight and pushed forward and as soon as she touched him, she did it again.

His eyes bore into hers and she pushed down her fear and revulsion, but she couldn't control the shudder that racked through her body as she gazed into this cold blue eyes. Luckily, he mistook it for excitement and ground his hips harder against hers.

She needed to bait him. Get him closer. Her hands were still in her skirts and she just needed to get them higher and into her pocket. When his hips came down on hers again, she threw her head back and cried out as if the pleasure was too much. She waited.

He growled and leaned forward, his hand coming away and his mouth closing over her neck. He bit her hard and she cried out from the pain, but she still continued with her charade.

He was distracted long enough for her to slowly pull her skirts up more, allowing him better access. She carefully slipped her hand into her pocket and wrapped her hand around the handle. She pulled it out and wrapped her arm around his neck.

She couldn't stab him. Winnie had said 'just a cut' and she needed to make sure she actually got him. It broke her heart when she knew where she'd have to cut him.

"I'm sorry, Love. I'm sorry."

Her husband pulled back and looked down at her, frowning at her words.

He didn't see her arm come around and cried out in pain as she swiped the dagger against his cheek.

He recoiled as if burned and practically flew off of her and rolled onto his front.

Abigail only felt sympathy for a moment before his cries turned angry.

It hadn't worked.

She looked over to Tia's necklace and scurried on her hands and knees, grabbing it in the nick of time. She turned around and saw her husband trying to stand up, stumbling forward. His hands outstretched. She knew he was going to grab her throat and this time, with the look in those blue eyes, she knew he'd strangle her. His shirt had ripped open during their struggle, exposing enough naked chest to help her.

"Please God, work!" She cried out and just as his hands brushed her skin, she pushed herself forward and shoved the necklace against his flesh, just over his heart.

A strange heat burst suddenly around her hand. She let go of the talisman for a moment and found it stuck to her husband's chest. The scream that he let out was not human. It was suffering, raw. It was pure agony.

He fell to the side and onto his back and this time, he was out for the count.

Cautiously, she crept over to him and checked his pulse. Weak, but still there.

Now, all she had to do was deal with restraining this person and talking to her husband.

First, she needed a rope.


	17. Desire in the Darkness P3

Desire in the Darkness P3

Abigail shuffled slightly on her knees, making sure her skirt was between her delicate skin and the floor. She dipped the cloth into the water bowl by the chair and brought it back up, dabbing it gently against the dried blood of Jamie's cheek.

She'd already made quick work in tidying it up, now it was just getting rid of the flecks and drips that had stained his skin. However, as she pressed down a little more, she heard him groan. He was beginning to stir.

She pulled back slowly and remained calm. After all, since she had him tied to his chair by his hands, arms and around his chest, he wasn't going anywhere. And she'd remembered to stuff the pouch back down her shirt, not taking any chances, encase whatever it was decided to hop into her.

She held the talisman in her hand, having wrapped the chain firmly around her wrist so she couldn't lose it again.

She stood and stepped back, waiting for him to awaken fully. Waiting to see just who it was she was facing off against.

Xx Jamie xX

When Jamie awoke, he felt TERRIBLE. It felt like he'd gone out, gotten drunk, and then decided to go ten rounds with the most vicious, cut-throat pirates he'd ever encountered.

Slowly, his senses came back to him as he opened his eyes. The first thing he could see was his lap.

_'So I slept in the armchair. Not the first time.'_

The second thing he could see was binding around his hands. He blinked a couple of times, wondering if his vision was playing tricks on him. He gave his bindings a tug.

Nope, real.

He sensed a presence in front of him and raised his head, part of his hair falling across one side of his face.

Abigail stood before him, a knife in one hand and something else in the other. Her clothes were ripped, her neck had bruises on it and her lip was cut open.

"Darling-" He started but she shook her head.

"Don't. You don't get to call me that," the knife in her hand came up, shaking and threatening as she pointed it at him.

What had happened to her for her to be holding him at knifepoint? Why was he tied to the chair? Why was she holding a-

A wave of memories flooded him, like a bad dream he'd just forgotten. He'd fought with her. He'd held her down and tried to force himself on her. He'd remembered the overwhelming desire to snap her neck.

His stomach turned when he remembered HE had been the one to hit her. To cut her lip open...to rip her clothes...to give her bruises around her neck. To terrify her so much that she screamed and ran from him.

The nightmares and thoughts he'd been having had turned into reality and Abigail had been the victim. He said nothing else as he watched her, his eyes going back to the knife in her hand.

Xx Abigail xX

Abigail's hands shook when her husband looked at her. She'd seen the moment he must have recalled everything because he went quiet and stoic.

And his eyes...they were hazel again.

But...what if it was a trap? What if he was trying to lure her into a false sense of security.

There was only one way to find out.

She knelt down, not taking her eyes off of his face. If she saw his eyes turn blue, even the darkest shade, then she'd press the necklace over his heart again. He still bore an odd 'burn' mark from before.

"I'm going to untie you now...don't try anything or I'll cut you again," she hesitated as her hands shook. He wouldn't look directly at her. Maybe she'd been wrong. Slowly, he nodded at her though.

He understood that at least.

She cut the rope around his hand, but as soon as he was free, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer. She yelped when he held the dagger over his heart and shut his eyes tight.

"Do it. You're not safe with me."

He was telling her to stab him. To...end his life. She couldn't. Even if it meant saving his soul, she couldn't do that.

"I-I can't-"

"I hurt you," he opened his eyes and looked at her again, tears falling down his cheeks, "God, I was going to-to-"

He began to sob and Abigail could see everything in his eyes. The sadness. The Heartache. The regret.

It was him.

Her fingers loosened around the dagger until it fell from her grasp and onto the floor with a clatter. Her other hand came out and her fingers brushed over his cheeks.

"It's you. It's-it's really you!"

She pulled her wrist from his grasp and wound both arms around the back of his neck.

She hadn't lost him.

His free hand held her as best he could, but it was his head that buried itself against her neck as he sobbed.

"Jamie," she said his name over and over again, smoothing down his hair. She pulled back again and held his face, just wanting to look at him.

"What have I done?! Oh, my darling. I'm sorry," he placed his forehead against hers, guilt eating away at him at how he'd tormented her so.

"Love-love, you need to tell me what happened," Abigail wanted to hold onto this moment for as long as she could, but she also needed to know if Winnie was right, "can you tell me what happened to you?"

"I don't...I don't know. I was just angry all the time and I kept...I kept losing myself in these awful thoughts and coming to...I remember everything but I wasn't controlling it," he pulled away and his voice broke again as he looked at her lip, "I hurt you. Oh God, what's wrong with me?! How could I do that to you?!"

"If I told you- if I told you what I was told, you might not believe me."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Abigail spent ten minutes explaining what happened after she'd managed to lose him in the woods. About Winnie's theory and how to help. As she explained to him, she also resumed cleaning up his cheek and whilst it stung, Jamie, put up with the pain and made no complaint.

When she finished her story, they put their heads together and thought about it. About when it all started. And for Jamie, there was only one explanation.

"I bought you a box for your birthday. I hid it in my study in the drawer, but inside I found a letter and an old piece of gold."

"What did the letter say?"

"It's in Latin...I don't remember what it says, though I read it."

She stood up again and touched his cheek, almost afraid to leave him, encase he turned again.

"I'll go get it. Please...please, stay strong."

She hurried as quickly as she could into his study and to his desk. Pulling it open, she found the box and underneath lay a crumpled piece of paper. She picked it up and looked over the words and it WAS in Latin. This she knew because she'd never been able to read it.

She came straight back to her husband and held it out to him.

"Jamie...I need you to read this out loud to me. I don't know what it says, but if this is it...then this may be the key to helping you."

He saw her bite her lip and realised she'd wanted to add, 'or doing more harm', but it was a chance they'd both have to take. He would do anything if it meant keeping her safe from him.

"You best...stand back and have that dagger ready."

She did as he asked and held it up, though she didn't really want to cut him again.

Jamie held the paper up and translated it, making sure to read each word loudly and clearly.

"All thee who handle my gold, will unleash my spirit and free me from my resting place. Be warned, because, after three days, your body will be mine and mine-"

Jamie stopped talking and his head fell forward.

"Jamie?!" Abigail went to kneel down and shake him, but his sudden bark of laughter rattled her and she backed away again, her knife coming out.

The paper was crumpled into a ball in his hands and he slowly raised his head to look back at her.

Blue eyes.

He smiled evilly at her, but Abigail did not show fear. She pointed the knife as close as she could, without him being able to grab her.

"Don't. Don't you dare! I don't know who you are and I don't CARE, but you are not welcome and you will leave. You will give me back my husband or else."

"Or else, what? You wouldn't kill your own husband," he began to tug and pull at the bindings around him, his eyes never leaving hers, "besides, I know you want it. I felt you earlier when you tightened around my fingers."

Abigail fought down on the need to be sick as she listened to his words.

"I never said anything about killing you. But I know how to make you suffer," she held out her other hand and grabbed the heavy pendant in her palm, making sure it faced him.

He visibly recoiled and his hands stilled on the ropes.

"You don't like this, do you? And I know why: because it's powerful. More powerful than you! And it's full of love," she took another step closer, so close that all she had to do was reach out and push the metal against him again, more love than you could ever know. Now...you are going to tell me what your gold is. I can't kill you, but I can make you suffer. I saw what it did to you before. And I'll bloody do it again. Now. Give me back my husband."

Xx Jamie xX

The next time Jamie came around, it was to someone rifling through his pockets and cursing up a storm.

His sweet wife's voice called to him and he remembered everything a lot quicker this time.

But she wasn't paying attention to him right now. She clutched something in her hand and continued to mutter.

"Cursed fucking gold," she moved away and around him, "I'll fucking show you!"

She disappeared from his view and he heard the back door open, slam against the wall and her footsteps quieten.

He looked back at his bindings, glad he was still secure. He didn't know what was going on, but considering she didn't look any worse and he didn't seem to have any more injuries, he assumed the blackout he'd suffered meant something good. He could vaguely hear her voice and imagined her wild, determined eyes, but the words...the words were lost on him.

When she came back in, she immediately knelt in front of him and severed the ties that held him.

"It's down the well. Remind me to check the water every time we get a bucket," she helped pull at the knots, but Jamie still wasn't sure.

"Don't, I might-"

"You won't. Trust me, whatever or whoever it was WON'T be coming back."

There was something in her voice that sounded so sure. And if that didn't reassure him, her next words did.

"I'll go to Winnie's tomorrow, she'll be able to do something about it as well. Just as a precaution."

All this time she spoke to him and helped untie him, he noticed she wasn't looking him in the eye. She was pointedly looking anywhere but his face and...he felt so much shame. She must really hate him.

He stood and she in front of him, preventing him from walking anywhere without bumping into her. He looked at the top of her head, wanting to reach out and hold her again.

Instead, he asked, "What was it?"

"Something...not good. And all because of a stupid coin, in a stupid box and-and-"

She broke off when a sob escaped her throat and her forehead was suddenly pressed against his chest.

"Darling?!" His hands came out, but he was still scared to touch her.

"I'm fucking exhausted. Just...hold me. Please"

He couldn't deny her and his arms came up and held her gently, as though she were a fragile doll.

He couldn't believe he'd been so weak, that he'd allow something to take over his body and hurt the woman he loved. The woman he had promised to never hurt.

"Jamie. Please...take me to bed. I want to go to sleep," her hands came up to the front of his torn shirt and held on.

He pulled away, only enough to pick her up and carry her in his arms. Her head fell against his shoulder and not even halfway up the stairs, she was asleep. She truly had been exhausted.

When he entered the bedroom and saw all the damage he had caused, it made his heart ache even more. It was almost as if the thing that had him wanted to not only destroy him but his home and all that lay within.

He put her on the bed and pulled the sheets over her. She didn't stir again, even when he began to tidy what he could. He didn't move the bed back into place, but the trunk, table, and all the food and water that had fallen of the tray was cleaned up and righted again.

He turned back to her and found, whilst he longed to be in her arms and keep her safe, he couldn't climb in next to her. The shame still ate away at him and he left her, choosing instead to carry on cleaning and righting the house and the mess he had caused. He washed and cleaned everything within an inch of its life and whilst he was sure it was almost midnight and he was tired, he didn't stop until everything looked normal.

He sat back down in his armchair and lent against the cushioned back, though he found no comfort in it as he usually did.

He shut his eyes and let his own exhaustion pull him into a fretful, troubled sleep. His mind was still plagued by what he had done.

He was still in that place of sleep, just before the dreams could take over when he felt a pressure on his lap. He opened his eyes and found...his wife, tucked up against him. Her eyes were shut and her hands held tightly onto his shirt.

He would have thought she was asleep, had it not been for the fact he knew she just sat down.

"Love-"

"I can't sleep without you," she whispered and Jamie saw a tiny tear fall from her closed eyes. He brought his hand up and carefully wiped it away. He felt her shake against him and he couldn't bear it anymore.

Throwing aside all restraint, he pulled her close against him and into his arms.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault. You...you literally weren't yourself."

He held her tenderly and thought of all that had been done to her that night. How strong she was and how...how much she must love him to not have left him to wallow.

"I swore to myself I would never hurt you. It was still my hands," his fingers shook as he traced over the light bruises on her neck, remembering how he had made the impressions there.

She pulled back and opened her eyes to look at him.

"And I promised the same thing," she ran a finger under the cut on his cheek and her lip quivered, "I hurt you so much tonight, so we're even. But...can you forgive me?"

"You had to. And it's not you who should ask forgiveness, I-"

"And you couldn't control yourself," Abigail pressed her lips against his and each time she pulled back, she spoke quickly so she could carry on peppering little kisses on his lips, "I love you."

Kiss.

"I forgive you."

Kiss.

"Please, say you forgive me. Please."

"I forgive you," he pressed his lips against hers and felt his own tears fall again, "I love you."

She pulled back and held his face in her hands.

"Please. Please, come to bed."

Jamie nodded and when she got up, she took him by the hand and he let her lead him back through the house, back upstairs and to their room.

They both stopped when they saw the bed was still slightly askew and working together, pushed it back into its rightful place against the wall.

They stripped in silence, helping one another out of damaged or ripped clothes. In the darkness, with only the moonlight coming through the window, Jamie could only look at her naked skin and think one thing.

"Beautiful," he held her face and lowered his lips to hers. It was not hungry or demanding, nor did he want it to go anywhere. He just needed her to know how much she meant to him.

She pushed him gently back and made him lay back on the bed. She clambered on top of him and made him sit up as she reached behind her neck. The light caught her in the right way and he noticed the necklace around her.

As she pulled it off, she reached forward and placed it around his neck.

"I thought-"

"Try not to get possessed again, darling," her lips wobbled and she offered him a watery smile.

He held her firmly in his arms, not wanting her to feel afraid of him ever again.

"Alright. I'll try."

When their lips met again, Jamie prayed to God for not only forgiveness but thankfulness. He thanked the Lord he had a kind, loving and understanding wife.

And what he didn't know was, Abigail was thanking God for the same thing. That she still had her wonderful husband, safe in her arms.

And they would both do anything for the other.


	18. Taming

Taming

"Jamie, you need to start being serious, please," Abigail turned her head to look at her husband, pouting as he continued to pull faces, even though she was looking directly at him.

"I am, my dear, sweet, pretty Kate," he grabbed a small portion of his beard and began to twirl it dramatically, "for I am your Petruchio! Your one, your only, your master!"

Abigail just sighed and rolled her eyes. Well, she had asked him nicely and now...that left her with one other option. Purposefully, she ground her backside down against his lap and pushed against him.

He grabbed at her waist and looked winded as he said, "Alright, alright, I'm serious. Oooh, fine...where are we?"

Abigail relaxed and stopped putting so much weight on her lower half. She held her copy of 'The Taming of the Shrew' up and pointed to the part they had gotten up to before Jamie had decided to start hamming it up.

"Now...properly this time. For me?" She fluttered her lashes at him and he let out a small huff of laughter.

"Come, come, you wasp, i'faith you are too angry!" He was still a bit dramatic as he read his lines, but it was definitely toned down.

"If I be waspish, best beware my sting," Abigail read her part with practised vehemence, one of her favourite things about the character.

"My remedy is then to pluck it out," Jamie leant forward and placed a teasing kiss against her shoulder.

"Ay, if the fool could find where it lies."

His hands began to wander down from her waist and onto her hips, his palms smoothing over the fabric of her skirt.

"Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? In his tail."

"In his tongue," she turned her head back to look at him, remembering her next couple of lines well enough that she didn't need to look and check.

"Whose tongue?"

"Yours, if you talk of tales, and so farewell!"

Abigail stood up and intended on Jamie to follow her, hopefully picking the book from her grasp and continuing on, but he had other ideas.

His hands still held her skirt and he stood up, pulling her back against him.

"What, with my tongue in your tail?" He nibbled at her neck again and Abigail knew exactly where it was heading. His hands came back up and slowly, his fingers ran quick circles over her stomach.

"Ah! Jamie, no!"

"Come, my little wasp!" He fell down to his knees, his hands still on her skirt as he tugged at her, "I shall pluck out that sting for your own good!"

She tried to break free but ended up falling backwards, her fall only broken as she landed on his lap.

She cackled as he resumed biting and kissing her neck until he managed to pull her onto her back and clamber on top of her.

He wiggled his brows as he settled over her legs and she couldn't help but ask, "Darling...what exactly is your obsession with my bottom?"

He smirked at her.

"What brought that on?"

"I mean, you were just trying to 'pluck out my sting' and I'd be lying if I said it was the first time."

"Well..it is the prettiest bottom I've ever seen," he answered sincerely, but she still felt very embarrassed by his compliment.

"Shush. It's...an alright bottom...Elizabeth has a nicer one."

"I'm sure she does, but I've never-...wait, you've seen Elizabeth's bottom?!" Jamie cocked his brow and hovered over her, his face showing clear interest.

"Of course. We did help each other change a lot. One couldn't help but look and she said she envied mine. But I didn't see her point because hers was so small and when she helped me with my binding-"

Abigail stopped when she noticed the intense, faraway look her husband had in his eyes. He wasn't even looking into her own eyes anymore.

"James Norrington!"

He startled and looked back at her.

"Are you having dirty thoughts?" She smirked up at him, especially when his cheeks turned a slight pink.

"No."

She laughed out loud at the aloof way he had attempted to say that.

"You liar."

He smiled slightly sheepishly at her and shrugged.

"Well...maybe a bit, but it's all of you I swear."

Whilst she appreciated his honesty, she had a feeling he was imagining various scenarios in which both her AND Elizabeth were present.

Changing the subject, he decided to switch tactics.

"Where were we?"

"Oh, urm," she checked the book that was still in her hand and read the last part over, "I was leaving and-"

The book was suddenly pulled from her hands and she watched it sail across the room.

"Oh yes. I was going to pluck out your tail with my tongue."

"Don't. You. Da-AH!"

Abigail squeaked and laughed when he began to tickle her again.

She tried to hide and turned away from him, ending up on her front. She realised her mistake too late when her skirts were suddenly pulled up and flung over her back and head.

"Oof! Jamie!" She felt the fabric of her bloomers pulled down, far enough to only expose her buttocks.

"Sorry, busy, can't hear you!"

She could hear the amusement in his voice and felt him scooch down over her and despite her embarrassment, she DID secretly enjoy the attention. But only because, for some reason, her tail pleased him to no end. And she supposed...she can put up with attention. As long as-

"Oh, Petruchio," she lifted her skirts over her head and pushed herself up to look at him.

He smiled innocently at her, even though his face was level with her bottom.

"Yes, dear sweet Kate?"

"If you call me a shrew, I'll crown you."

"Deal," he brought out one hand and gently smacked one of her buttocks, making her yelp beneath him.

As long as he didn't-

"And don't even think about-OW! NO BITING, YOU CHEAT!"


	19. Family

Family

Jamie was reading contently in his armchair when the knocks sounded at the door.

"I'll get it," he turned and called out to the back door, where his wife had just exited. He placed his book down on the small side table, got up, and wondered who it could be. They weren't expecting visitors, so maybe it was another letter?

When he opened the door and gazed out at who was on the doorstep, his heart did a panicked thump.

A young man, in smart, clean naval uniform stood there. Judging by his stripes, he was still a sub-lieutenant, but Jamie instantly worried that this man was from his past life and had come to tell him something dreadful. Maybe his early retirement had not gone down well? Maybe he was needed again? Maybe-

"Master James Norrington?" The man enquired and Jamie realised that he hadn't actually spoken to the man yet.

"Yes. Do I...know you?"

"No, I'm Theodore Gilbert. I'm wondering if you could help me. I was told that Abigail Norrington lived here? Formerly Gilbert?"

Jamie squinted at the young man in front of him.

"Yes. Are you her cousin?" He remembered her talking about a distant cousin but...it was odd. This man bore quite a strong resemblance to Abigail.

The young man shook his head and cleared his throat, his nerves evident before he spoke.

"No sir, I-"

"Darling, who's at the door?"

Jamie turned to see Abigail coming back inside with the full laundry basket now in her arms. He must have been obscuring her view from the stranger because when next he turned, the young man had his head down and took a step to the side.

He pulled off his hat and took a step forward. Jamie turned and saw the shock in his wife's face before the man spoke again.

"Gabby."

Abigail stopped and dropped the basket on the floor. Jamie's heart clenched. Whoever this man was, his wife knew him. And by the look of it, she was shocked to see him just standing there.

"Theo?" Her voice shook as she took another, small step forward.

"Hello, Gabby."

Jamie wasn't paying any attention to the man. He was solely focused on his wife and the way she looked ready to cry. The way her hands shook. The way her body swayed as she took another step forward.

He rushed to her, just in time, and caught her in his arms as she fainted.

"Darling?!" Jamie steadied himself and looped his arms around her back and legs, pulling her up. He immediately went back to his armchair and sat her down in it.

The man known as Theo was by his side and threw down his hat as he looked over Abigail with great concern.

"Oh, my dear Gabby, I'm sorry!"

Jamie knew this man must be important for her to react such as she did. He just didn't know why yet and whilst he still looked at him with a suspicious eye, he could tell that his concern was genuine.

"Hold her, I'll get a cloth," Jamie instructed him and waited until Theo held Abigail's neck in both hands, keeping her upright in the chair.

He grabbed a cloth and used the water in the sink, meant for the dishes, quickly soaking it up.

He came back over and gently dabbed at his wife's forehead and temples.

"Darling," Jamie called to her, trying to rouse her, "it's alright. Wake up, Abigail."

"I knew it would be a shock...oh Gabby, I'm sorry," the man's hand slipped to cup Abigail's cheek in a warm, tender gesture that made Jamie's heart flip jealousy.

He had the same last name as her, so he was family, but surely cousins couldn't be THIS close?! Unless...maybe they were engaged? Betrothed?

_'Sweethearts.'_

Before Jamie's brain could provide any more hurtful sentiments, Abigail moaned, and finally, her eyes fluttered open. She looked first at Jamie and then, turned to Theo.

She let out a small sob and tears sprung to her eyes.

"This can't be real...it," her hands came up, shaking as she reached out to grab his jacket, "I thought you were dead!"

"And I, you...my little sister," Theo took a deep breath as his own tears took hold and he gazed adoringly at Abigail's face, "I thought I'd lost you with father."

"Teddy," Abigail smiled and suddenly threw her arms around Theo's neck, pulling him in close, "my Teddy!"

Jamie wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. He just knew he couldn't stay where he was and quickly and quietly, got up, and headed towards the kitchen.

_'So...her brother.'_

Jamie began to bustle about the place, automatically preparing tea for Abigail and her guest. He focused on his task and purposefully DID NOT listen in on their private conversation. Though some sentences drifted to his ears, without his consent.

"...so long, look at you..."

"...you've not changed..."

"...if I told you what happened..."

"...PIRATES?! BLOODY HELL, GABBY..."

"...stuff and nonsense, I cannot believe..."

"...wrote about, got a letter that my sister was running the business, but under a different name..."

"Jamie?"

Jamie turned when he heard his name called and found his wife, pulling her brother towards him. He quickly settled down the cups and saucers on a tray and walked over.

"Jamie, I would like to introduce you to my big brother," Abigail choked up again but was smiling all through it, "Theodore Michael Gilbert. Theo for short. Theo, this is my husband. Jamie Norrington."

"James," Jamie corrected, though had to smile as he shook the young man's hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"And you," Theo nodded politely at Jamie and gave a firm, respectable handshake, "I would say I've heard so much about you, but Gabby's only told me that you're her husband and you met her...sorry, what were you saying a few minutes ago?"

Abigail swatted at Theo's arm playfully.

"Oh shush, there's too much to say in one go," she looked at the table and then back at her brother, "do you want some tea?"

"Actually...I would like a moment to refresh myself upstairs, if I may?" There was a cheeky twinkle in Theo's eye before he said, "Unless you've taken to bathing outside like you used to?"

"Oh... don't make me hit you again," Abigail laughed and wiped her tears away, before steering her brother towards the stairs, "straight up and straight forward. It's the door painted blue. And the door painted green is the spare bedroom if you want to take off your coat!"

"Such service!" Theo walked up the stairs with a grin, Iis this a hotel? I can picture you being the bossy hostess!"

He disappeared out of sight and Abigail turned with a sigh of relief, combined with exhaustion.

"Thank God we furnished that room with a bed and a table," she looked up at Jamie again, her eyes burning when more tears came over, "Jamie...oh, Jamie!"

He took her eagerly into his arms again and just let her hold him tightly, one hand smoothing down her hair and the other rubbing soothing circles over her back.

"I know, Love," he kissed the top of her head and hoped he could be useful to her during this time, "do you want to talk about it?"

"It's just...father and I...we were told that Theo's ship was captured by pirates...blown up. No survivors. Obviously, they were wrong," Abigail began to cry again, her shoulder shaking as Jamie tried to calm her, "I thought...I thought I'd lost my entire family. Our father died thinking he had lost his sons and now-" a loud sob caught in her throat and Jamie pressed more, gentle kisses to the top of her head.

"Shhh. It's alright."

"God, Jamie."

There was a question he needed to ask. Something that had been plaguing his mind since the moment Theodore had walked into their home.

"Why Gabby?"

Abigail's sobs stopped and she went very still in his arms.

"Oh...oh I was hoping you wouldn't ask that," she sniffed away the tears that were still trying to fall, but Jamie had a feeling he was on the right track, trying to distract her.

"I know it's close to your name, but there has to be a reason."

Abigail pulled away, a slight grimace on her face.

"Because...I talked a lot when I was a babe, apparently. It was short for...Gabby Duck. Like...a gabbling duck or goose."

Jamie's lips twitched ever so slightly.

"Ah. I see."

He opened his mouth to say something else, but Abigail saw it and pointed her finger right under his nose.

"Don't you DARE start using it! I hated that name!"

"But you can't escape the fact you did talk a lot," Theo's voice called to them and he was back down the stairs, this time without his jacket or hat on.

Abigail sighed and looked frustratedly between Jamie and her brother.

"Honestly, I don't even remember this! I wasn't even three, Teddy!"

Theo walked towards them, a slight frown on his face.

"Do you have to call me that?"

"Yes, because you're Teddy. Plain and simple," she looked at Jamie with a small, secretive smile, "he was the bravest teddy in the whole unit. Didn't lose any stuffing."

"Gabby," her brother told her in a warning tone, but there was no edge to it.

Jamie decided to play peacemaker and carefully steered his wife back to her seat.

"I suggest you sit down, drink and you can tell me all about her gabbling days."

Abigail could only groan in horror as she covered her face with her hands.

Theo and Jamie were already getting on. It was a nightmare.

A few hours later...

The tea had come and gone and the only intermission in the conversation was when Jamie broke out the bread, cheese, and fruit for them to eat. Since it was looking like they weren't going to have a real supper and both siblings were reluctant to move far from one another, he felt it best to sacrifice the nibbles he'd usually save for his study work.

Jamie had heard so many tales of Abigail and Theo's youth and most of the time, he was in stitches, particularly at finding out how her brothers had tricked her into bathing in one of their houses ponds and taking all her toys with her.

"You should have seen her," Theo held up his hands as he recalled the events, "her skirts hitched up and tied around her shoulder. ALL the dolls floating along the surface and her head crowned with a lilypad! And out walks the nanny, who screamed and said-"

"Abigail!" Abigail suddenly switched her accent to a shrill, Irish brogue, "Whit' are ye' murdering ya' poor wee dolls for?!"

"And then, Abigail REFUSED to budge when she was asked and poor Nanny Martha had to run in the pond and hoist her out herself, kicking and screaming-"

"I wasn't kicking, I was wiggling-"

"And then, puts her down in front of our father," Theo leaned forward and tried to control his laughter, "to which Abigail's only reasonable excuse was...come on Gabby!"

Abigail buried her red face in her hands but made sure her mouth was still showing.

"I HAD to wash them in the pond because Nanny Martha had told me NOT to make a mess in the washroom!"

"And then, just when you thought things couldn't get any wilder, a frog, hops right out of her wet bloomers and lands-"

"Right on Nanny Martha's chest," Abigail pulled her hands away and looked slightly smug at that confession.

"To which, Nanny Martha was so overcome with rage and shock, she fainted. That's right! Dear, sweet, six-year-old Gabby made her nanny FAINT with a frog!"

Jamie could picture every little detail, right down to a watery, limp lilypad on his wife's small head.

He listened as they swapped stories back and forth until Abigail looked at her brother, reached over, and grabbed his hand.

"Theo...I know I shouldn't but...I have to ask...how did you survive? What happened?"

Theo took a quick sip of his elderflower cordial and then, took a resigned, deep breath.

"We were attacked on our third week out... they didn't take any of us hostage... they overtook the ship, killed a lot of us but...then with our lot, they put us on a small boat and pushed us out to sea. Laughing, because they were all sure we'd die. I watched them blow up our ship and then disappear across the horizon."

He paused and Jamie could see the pain in his features as he remembered the worst parts of his journey.

"We were very lucky. There were originally eleven of us and two died after a few days, but a ship from Spain picked us up. We thought we were done for but...well, surprisingly, we weren't thrown in chains or killed. They put us to work and when we got back to their soil, we pleaded our case before a judge to get us home...surprisingly, it worked. Slowly...a lot of people did make it difficult for us, but we got home."

His other hand grabbed Abigail's wrist and he had to control his emotions as he confessed, "And that's where I heard about father's ship. And that there were no survivors."

Abigail began to tear up again.

"There was only one that day."

"I thought...I thought-," Theo choked on a sob and looked down at their hands.

"Oh...Oh, bollocks, you've done it now!"

Abigail stood up and pulled her brother with her. She pulled him into a tight hug and just held him close as more tears came.

Jamie, not wanting to interrupt again, went to stand up.

"I'll just-"

He was stopped when Abigail pointed dramatically at his face and shook her head.

"You stay there!" She pulled away from Theo and willed her tears away, "You...you met Jamie as my husband, but there's more to it."

Jamie suddenly knew where she was going with this.

"Abigail, you don't-"

"Jamie...was commodore on the Dauntless when they found what the pirates left. And...he saved my life. He pulled me out of the water and looked after me. He saved my life there and...I fell in love with him."

Theo slowly turned to Jamie.

"Then... I owe you many thanks. More so than just as my brother in law," Theo gave a great, low bow and Jamie felt slightly embarrassed at the praise he was receiving when he'd previously stated, 'just doing my job', "without you, I wouldn't have my little sister here."

"It was-I just-" Jamie was literally lost for words and looked to Abigail for support.

"Oh...I've made you flustered," she walked around the table and gave him a gentle kiss on his cheek, "Sorry darling."

"It's alright. I would...I would have done it again, in a heartbeat," he looked earnestly at Theo and decided to return the praise to Abigail, "and your sister here is braver than she looks. She saved my life in more ways than one. She made me a better man."

Abigail made a strange noise and turned away, covering her mouth. She waved both boys off as she sobbed.

"I-I'm fine! I-I think it's time for bed though before I have a nervous breakdown!"

Both Jamie and Theodore shared the same, guilty expression. It had obviously been A LOT for her to handle today and that sweet, heartfelt confession and compliment merely tipped her over.

"Theodore, you are more than welcome to stay in the room across the way," Jamie stood up and walked around the table, giving his wife time to compose herself, "unless you already have lodgings?"

"If I may take the liberty, I was hoping my baby sister would be gracious enough to put me up," Theo looked nervously behind Jamie and said, "it is alright, isn't it Gabby?"

Abigail merely waved her hand again and said, "Mmm Hmm!" between quick hiccups.

"Well then, I'll go off first," he lent closer to Jamie and whispered, "I would say a proper goodnight, but I fear she might start off again."

Jamie nodded, understanding how highly sensitive his wife may be at this moment.

Theo walked off, calling, 'goodnight Gabby!' as he went and Jamie turned around to look at her shaking back.

He walked to her and placed comforting hands on either of her arms.

"Come on," he gently pushed her until she could walk as she sobbed, "let's get you to bed."

A short while later...

Abigail HAD finally stopped crying when they got to their bedroom. They'd undressed and dressed in silence, and when they'd climbed into their bed, Jamie pulled her so she lay with her head on his chest, his arm securely around her back.

In all the times they'd talked previously, he'd never asked her about her brothers before because he hadn't wanted to bring up any painful reminders of her past for her. But now...now seemed a good time, considering neither seemed capable of sleep.

"You said you had two other elder brothers? Do you want to tell me about them?"

Abigail sighed in his arms, though she didn't seem too sad.

"Johnathan and Terence were the eldest. The favourite sons, though father would deny it...he was fiercely proud of them. Johnathan made commodore when he was twenty-one after saving a man's life. And Terence...well, Terence very nearly had his own ship."

"They...they were always too busy to play with us, but they were still affectionate and protective. I was to have no suitors until I was sixteen," Abigail let out a small laugh and Jamie listened more as she described them, "and Terence taught me to ride a horse...and Johnathan was adamantly against me joining father on board, but...when he saw no way of changing our minds, he insisted I carry his old sword with me."

"Theo and I were the adventurers. Troublemakers. Explorers under the table, eating secret picnics, and having secret meetings. But we were happy...for a short while."

"What happened to them?" Jamie held her close, knowing this wasn't going to end happily.

"Johnathan got sick like our mother...something wrong with the blood. He died at home and we just...we went to pieces for a bit. He was so strong and brave and then one day...he was gone. And Terence-" Abigail let out a shaky breath but managed to continue, "poor Terence was shot at sea. When they sent his body home in that old, shabby box...father cried out and wouldn't even stop when I held him."

"I'm sorry."

"What about you?" Abigail slowly raised her head and Jamie could see the way her eyes shone, even in the moonlit room.

"My family?"

"Your father and mother...you never talk about them."

Jamie sighed, knowing they'd have to talk about them one day.

"Not much to say, I'm terribly afraid...father was not a very affectionate man. Lawrence Norrington...there wasn't a great deal of love after mother passed. Nor really, was there before but...she seemed to be teaching him how to like me, at the very least."

"What was your mother like?"

"Anne Margaret Norrington formerly Smith...someone once said that she wasn't a great beauty, but she was to me...she was wonderful," Abigail's arms tightened around her husband and he forced himself to continue, "and...she had siblings. So I have Aunts, Uncles and a cousin somewhere but...I've never met them. Father didn't really want us to."

"No brothers or sisters?"

"No, mother died in childbirth when I was ten. My little sister died the next day. Father died a few years ago."

Abigail's little lips quivered as she thought of how lonely and sad her little Jamie would have been.

"I never knew. I'm sorry."

"Father-Father may have taught me to be a man, but mother...she was teaching me to be a gentleman as soon as I could walk. I missed her terribly...I still do."

Abigail's hand came to hold his cheek and she pushed herself up to hover over him.

"Then I owe her a lot. And...I feel that she would be sitting with my parents, right now and having a wonderful time talking about us."

"And my father?"

"Probably with my brothers," Abigail smiled when an image came to her mind that she couldn't help but share, "playing a game of croquet but arguing about the points."

Jamie couldn't help but smile with her. It was...a pretty accurate depiction of how his father was and her brothers probably would have gotten along with him better than he ever would have.

"Do you want to sleep?" She offered and lowered herself down, her lips hovering over his.

"I think I'm ready...if you are?"

She nodded and with one quick, loving kiss, Jamie pulled her back down into his arms and held her tight. He drifted off, thinking about his mother and wondering...knowing...that his mother would have truly loved Abigail, had she ever met her.

The next morning...

Theo didn't want to leave and Abigail was reluctant to let him go, but they both understood how important the navy was to him.

At breakfast, Abigail sat him down and asked him something that she'd been thinking about as soon as she'd woken up.

"Teddy...I know they left me father's business because they thought I was the only one left," she licked her lips nervously as she tried to open up more about her plans, "and now that you are here...I have a feeling they'll be writing to you and wanting you to take over completely. So...I'd like to offer you now, a partnership. Fifty-fifty split of everything."

Theo shook his head.

"No thanks. You know Johnathan was originally supposed to take it over and I...I could never get my head around that. It's all yours. No, I," he sat up straighter in his seat with his shoulders back, "I have a few plans of my own and even if I wanted to take over, I can't."

"Oh? What's happening?"

"I...well, I'm getting married."

"You are?! To who?!" Abigail shrieked and grabbed her brother's hands over the table in her excitement.

"A girl I met in spain...she's...well, she's wonderful. Her name's Louisa and she's...oh god," Theo smiled gleefully at Abigail and she could see the love he had for his future wife, "you'll love her. She's happy and bubbly and nothing like any of the girls in England."

Abigail couldn't help but smirk and tease him.

"Are you sure it's love and not...well, you know, the thing that mother and father were worried about us all doing?"

Theo laughed but shook his head.

"Truthfully... I love her and she loves me. I swear. She's from a good catholic family who don't tolerate that nonsense and as soon as they saw my intentions were honorable...well, they're planning everything. Right now. So, you see, I have to head back soon."

Jamie watched his wife and her brother happily converse over the table and would have left them to it, but Theo suddenly stood and pulled him away.

"Might I have a word?"

Jamie nodded and allowed himself to be led.

"Is there a private room?

"My study, through here."

Jamie led him inside and shut the door behind them, though Abigail would not have been one to eavesdrop.

"I shall make this easy and simple. I am glad my sister has married and found happiness, truly. However," whilst still polite, there was a new fierceness about Theo as he stared HARD at Jamie, "if you ever upset her, bring shame to her, or hurt her in any way, I will come back and personally sort you out. Understand?"

Jamie really couldn't help but smile.

"Perfectly. Theo," Jamie broke the distance between them and held out his hand, "I swear, on my life's blood, I will try my hardest to be admirable, brave, loyal, loving, kind and everything she deserves and more. And I hope, truly, truly hope you will return and stay with us soon. Because yesterday and today have been the happiest I've seen her since our wedding day."

"I will," Theo took Jamie's hand and softened his glare as he smiled, "and...thank you. Look after her for me. She's...my Gabby."

"I will. I swear to you."

A short while later...

Abigail was not overly upset watching her brother leave, though she did shed a small tear as he departed on his horse. They both waved him off and walked back inside their house, idly talking about having him visit with his future bride.

"I've been meaning to ask...about your relations," Abigail turned to him, her arms folded as she held her shawl around her shoulders, "Do you want to write to them?"

"Who?"

"Your family. Your Aunts, Uncles...Cousins?"

Jamie thought about it for a bit, before he shook his head and placed his hands on either side of her face.

"You are my family. You're all I'll ever need."

"Not just me now though. You have a brother in law now. And since he's met a nice girl, we'll have nieces and nephews in no time. And then," Abigail seemed to drift off, before she beamed and took his hand in hers, "come with me."

Jamie allowed himself to be led upstairs, wondering what exactly she had planned, but considering it concerned their bedroom, he wasn't about to argue about it.

She let go of his hand and reached inside her bedside table. She pulled out the pouch, full of the tea leaves that her friend Winnie had made up for her. She gave Jamie a nervous smile, before turning away and walking towards the window.

She slid the glass open, lent out and he watched as she emptied the entire bag outside, some of the leaves falling straight down, others blowing about in the wind.

She straightened and looked back at him and he understood the exact significance of what she had just done.

"Are you sure?"

She gave him a shaky laugh as she walked back over to him.

"Bit late now, unless you want to go and pick up the leaves with me."

He smiled at her and held out his hand.

"Come here. Gabby."

Abigail did not take his hand. Instead, she placed both of hers over her face and groaned.

"Don't. You. Dare."

They made love three times that day, unable to keep their hands off of one another when they knew where it would lead.

Jamie and she both knew that it might not happen that night or tomorrow or even the next day, but they finally had decided to move forward.

Their family was going to get bigger.


	20. Spot

Spot

"Honey, jam, roasted pork, grapes," Abigail couldn't help herself as she took two of the largest ones and popped them into her mouth, "apples, flour and...sugar...no, wait, we have sugar at home! Ah, well, more sugar for our tea."

Abigail had had a busy day at the market. With her basket full AND making sure she put down orders for more potatoes and carrots to be delivered, she was grateful she'd remembered to wear her comfy shoes.

Walking back along the dusty, beaten road was no easy task, especially weighed down by the hefty purchases she'd made, but her spirits were up and her feet were ready for the challenge, especially when the reward meant more time with Jamie.

But alas, fate today had other plans.

The road to her house didn't really lead anywhere else other than more houses, but in the middle of the track, today was two, strange-looking shapes. Abigail thought some children had decided to play a joke and put two large boulders in the middle of the road.

But the closer she got, the stranger they were...they were too dark to be boulders and odd shapes. Was there a snake hanging out of one end?

She was only a few feet from them when they suddenly moved and Abigail froze.

The objects turned out to be two, dirty dogs, who uncurled themselves at the sound of her feet and turned defensively to look at her.

She'd never been good at telling dog breeds. All she knew was that the ones in front of her were quite big, very dirty, and VERY hungry.

Whilst she had done nothing to appear threatening, the dogs deemed her as such and began to slowly growl at her.

She took a tentative step back and thought quickly...she wouldn't be able to outrun them and there was nothing to climb up or into to protect herself.

But these dogs were hungry and she wasn't about to let herself be offered up so...

She glanced down at her basket and knew what sacrifice would have to be made.

She reached inside and grabbed the thick, paper-wrapped roast pork. She clung to it for a moment, only mourning the loss of what would have been a delicious dinner.

She unwrapped it, watching the dogs as their growls quietened and they waited for her. They could smell what she was offering.

She threw the meat a little to the side and before the pork even seemed to come to rest on the ground below, the dogs were on it, sniffing it and eagerly tearing it apart.

Abigail HAD expected a sort of fight amongst the two and wanted to hurry away before that could happen, but they actually maintained a dignified meal, tearing and allowing the other to grab at a piece, devouring whatever was in their mouth.

Slowly, she moved away from them, watching them as she did so. Hoping they wouldn't turn and watch her. Finally, about thirteen feet away, she turned herself around and walked quickly, but quietly down the road home.

She finally allowed herself to breathe.

"Ok, one crisis averted...now, what to do for dinner?" She still had enough at home and plenty of meat in the barrel so luckily they weren't short of food, but still, she had to think what she could incorporate with the bread and honey she'd originally planned to make with the roasted pork.

She arrived at her gate, still contemplating what exactly she was going to 'surprise' her husband with now and happily strode down the path to her door when she felt...something.

She stopped dead and slowly turned herself around. And there behind her, following her in through the gate, were the two dogs.

"Oh...God," she gulped nervously, "nice...boys?"

Slowly, they approached her, this time with their tongues dangling out of their mouths and both heads bowed low.

She realised they were still hungry and hopeful.

"Oh...I have nothing for you. You ate our dinner, I'm sorry."

Of course, they didn't seem to understand her and came to a stop a foot or so away from her. That's when she noticed that the one on the right was standing on only three legs, its other one lifted off of the ground. It looked bloody and slightly swollen as if it had taken a bad tumble or got in a fight it didn't win.

"Oh, you poor thing," whilst she was still nervous and scared, her empathetic instincts took over. She knelt down, placed the basket to the side, and held out one hand towards it.

"Come on. Come here, I'd like to take a look at you," she knew better than to approach hungry dogs, remembering how they could turn even when you appeared passive before them.

Cautiously, it hobbled over to her, possibly expecting more food and when it was close enough, it sniffed tentatively at her fingers.

Abigail dared a small glance at the leg and amongst the blood, saw that it simply appeared to be a cut, the length of her finger. It wasn't so bad, but it needed to be washed and treated. And, of course, she knew that she would have to be the one to do it.

"Oh...come on, let's get you cleaned up...please don't bite me," Abigail's fingers flexed ever so slightly and the dog did not pull away. Instead, it flicked out its tongue and licked her palm.

"Well...that's a good first impression."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Getting them both inside her house was a little difficult at first. When she'd moved and picked up her basket, both dogs suddenly backed away and threatened to run out of the gate, but she'd made her way into the house and grabbed the salted meat from the barrel. She'd stood in her doorway and made the sweetest calls she could think of. She whistled and made baby talk, hoping to endear them. She had a feeling that all she had to do was hold the meat up and they'd have walked anyway, but it still distracted her nerves for what she was about to do.

Both dogs followed as she backed away, getting them far enough into her house so they could eat from the bowls she put on the floor in the kitchen. Once the contents were dumped there and the dogs were distracted, Abigail moved as quickly and quietly as she could.

She gathered water from her bucket and dipped a cloth in it. She reached out and carefully stroked the dog on its back. It didn't seem to mind too much but only growled when she actually began to dab at the wound on its leg.

"Easy girl, easy now," Abigail had gotten a close enough look at them both to see one was a girl and the other was a boy, so either they were siblings from the same mother or just two dogs that had been used for breeding until they'd fulfilled their purpose.

She carefully washed and bandaged up the leg, pleased that the dogs were eating slow enough so that she could finish the job AND that the one who was hurt had stopped growling.

"There we are," Abigail tied the bandage in a tiny knot, hoping it would stay, "it's the best I can do."

She waited for them to finish eating and stayed kneeling in front of them since being at their level seemed to appease them.

Once done, the male went up to his companion and seemed to not only inspect her but the newly treated leg and bandage. After a good sniff around, it turned and plodded over to Abigail.

Hoping she wasn't being lured into a false sense of security, she held out her hand again, palm up, and waited.

She tried not to shake as the dog sniffed her fingers and then, in what she could only presume was a show of gratitude, pressed his head against her hand, and rubbed against her affectionately.

Her fingers moved and she slowly petted and scratched him behind his ear.

"Ok, so we've reached an understanding," she let out a deep, relaxed breath and her anxiety seemed to go with it, "good."

Soon enough, the other one hobbled to her and seemed to demand the same affection and soon, Abigail was using both hands to scratch and pat both dogs down. It didn't escape her attention the amount of dirt she was getting covered in.

"Right...you're all healed up, best you go before my husband gets back," she slowly stood up and was pleased that the dogs did not flinch and try to run as they had done so before.

She made her way around them and to her front door, but when she opened it and turned around, they didn't seem to want to follow her.

In fact, they were now sitting on her floor just...waiting for something.

"Um...out you go?"

Abigail was not surprised that they did not move at her request.

"Ok, let's try this," she pointed her finger outside and tried to sound as firm and stern as she could, "out. Please?"

The male cocked its head to the side and observed her with an air of confusion. The female, obviously too tired to move a few feet towards the door, merely laid down and sprawled out.

She knew they were not moving.

"Oh...oh bollocks," she knew she had a fight on her hands. She squared her shoulders back and prepared for battle.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It took Abigail ten minutes to give up. She'd tried sweet-talking them out, offering them more meat and even tried to get behind them and shuffle them out, first with her legs and feet, and then her bare hands. But they wouldn't budge and even if they did, they simply plodded around her and sat back down again.

Seeing that she now had two uninvited house guests and it was getting late AND she had yet to cook any dinner, Abigail strolled outside and sat down on her porch, waiting for her husband. She wanted to at least give him an explanation as to why dinner wasn't ready and who the guests were, but the dogs had other ideas.

Thinking that she would be alone, she suddenly found herself in the company of both dogs, who obediently sat either side of her and laid down across her lap.

That was how Jamie found her. He came to the gate and seeing his wife sitting down with her chin rested on her hands and her elbows propped up on her knees, he wondered what on earth she was doing and why she seemed to have two large, dirty bags either side of her.

He walked towards her, bemused by her stern expression.

"Darling, what's-"

One of the bags suddenly moved and sat up straight, revealing itself to be a dirty pointer, who was now looking at him in great interest.

He was even more confused than before.

The dog suddenly stood on all fours, wagged its tail excitedly, and seemed to be waiting for Jamie to make the next move.

He looked at his wife and cocked his brow, but before he had a chance to ask, she merely stated, "Don't. Say. Anything."

Jamie couldn't help but laugh at her expression.

"Jamie! Be quiet, it's not funny!" The other dog sat itself up, but instead of seeking Jamie's attention, choose to lean against Abigail's side, to which she scowled and said, "Oh, get off!"

Since he could gather that his wife had made some new friends, he merely squatted down on the floor and looked at the eager dog expectedly.

"Come here. Come on!" He called it and it went to him happily, pushing itself against his hands.

He ruffled its head and gently rolled its ears with his fingers.

"Hello! Have you been keeping my wife company?" He looked back at his wife and smirked, "Let me guess...you fed them and now they won't leave you alone?"

"I had to, they bullied me on the road!"

Jamie looked away, trying to restrain more laughter at her disgruntled expression.

"They would have been out here on their own, except when I moved to go in, they laid on me! Watch!" She demonstrated by trying to stand up, only for the dog leaning on her to suddenly slide down, putting both its front legs over her lap, "See?! I'm being restrained outside my own home!"

Jamie couldn't help it. She sounded so put out and the sight was hilarious. He felt the bubble inside of him burst and let the slow laughter build up.

"Jamie!" Abigail's lips twitched and he could tell she was trying not to smile either, "This is serious, stop laughing!"

He would have been able to stop, had the end of her sentence not come out with a small hiccup of laughter.

"You stop!" He scolded her back, though as soon as he began to laugh harder, she too finally gave in and joined him.

Both dogs watched them, bemused by the human's odd behavior.

Finally, exhausted from the repressed humor of the situation, Abigail watched Jamie as he continued to lavish love and attention onto the dog.

"You're very good with him."

"We had a hunting dog when I was younger. Hercules the Brave and bold," he rubbed the dog vigorously and checked him over, "you look very much like a brave dog, don't you? If I'm not mistaken, you're a pointer. And a beautiful grey coat beneath all that mud. Good bone structure, though perhaps a little skinny and underfed. That will not do, will it, boy?"

Abigail found it adorable the way he talked and interacted with the dog. He looked younger than she'd ever seen him and could easily picture her husband with his beloved canine, chasing it around a garden. She glanced back down at the dog, still in her lap and then at her husband happily playing and fondling his own friend.

"Well...looks like we have some supper guests for the evening. Unless you want to try shifting them yourself?"

"Not particularly. However," he quickly checked behind the ears of his friend and grimaced, "I think we'll have to bathe them. They are quite dirty and if I'm not mistaken, flea-ridden."

Abigail couldn't help but groan, especially since they'd already been in her house.

She flopped back on the porch, not caring if it looked like she was having a tantrum.

She also tried to ignore her husband's laughter. She'd kill him later. AFTER they'd bathed the dogs.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A little while later...

Bathing them had been a struggle, but admittedly, a little fun. They'd kept jumping out of the tub as Abigail scrubbed and whilst they were careful with the injured one, the injured one was actually sprier and liable to leave when their hands moved away.

Still, they were clean and now dry. Though Abigail and Jamie HAD to go about the house, grabbing a change of clothes for themselves, more towels to dry the bathroom, AND light a fire to help keep the dogs warm.

Both happy, content and relaxed canines were now lying sprawled out before the fire.

Abigail couldn't help but grumble, considering the rug in which they lay on was 'her spot' and now, she sat in the rather uncomfortable kitchen seat as she read.

Although, it had been tempting to take up Jamie's offer when he'd merely gestured that his lap was free.

She couldn't quite concentrate on Hamlet and kept sighing and glancing at the dogs on the comfy rug.

"Alright, what's wrong?" Jamie lowered his own book and glanced over at her. Abigail couldn't help but feel a bit guilty at something so trivial and pouted.

"We're not going to be able to get rid of them, are we?"

"What makes you say that?"

Abigail glanced at the clean dogs, seeing their small, slim stomachs and remembering just HOW much dirt had been on them.

"Well, they don't look owned...they were starving, so they haven't been fed," she sighed again and her heart ached, thinking about how they might have suffered at cruel hands, "and...can't really kick them out now, can we? What are we going to do? Put them in a wagon and drive them out of town? No...bollocks."

Jamie couldn't help but chuckle.

"You have a big heart, Love, but we won't keep them if you don't want to?"

Abigail contemplated this and bit the inside of her cheek.

"It's not that I DON'T want to keep them. I just...well, I would have preferred one dog. Or actually...maybe a cat," she smiled as she got that far off look in her eye, the one she always had when she daydreamed, "a sweet little cat, with a ribbon around its neck. And a bell."

Jamie had to raise his book to hide his amusement, though she wasn't looking at him. He composed himself and said, "We can get you a cat if you want?"

At that moment, the injured dog seemed to wake up from its dream. Seeing that it still was in a house and safe, it got up, stretched, and looked at Abigail for guidance.

"Good evening to you," she greeted it and watched it slowly hobble over, before settling back down. This time, right on her feet with its head against her knee.

"Oh...well then."

Seeing that it wasn't going to leave her, she reached down and gently scratched its head. It let out what she could only describe as a happy, relieved sigh.

"I suppose...I suppose I can put a ribbon around you," she looked down into the sad, large eyes, wondering if she'd ever be able to say no to this creature.

"I don't think she'll appreciate that, nor her brother."

"I know. Worth a shot," she looked at the other dog and pouted again, "I still...can't believe they took my spot."

Jamie glanced between her and the dog and suddenly got an idea. It would have to wait until tomorrow but...he could fix this situation quite easily. It would require a small trip to town.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next day...

When Abigail arrived home the next day, she was pleasantly surprised by the warm, happy reception she received. Both dogs were at the door as soon as she entered and happily jumped around her for attention, though that may have had something to do with the contents of her basket.

Attending to her father's business and sending out letters to her associates and ensuring that everyone involved was happy...had been a rather taxing and stressful time. So, after everything was finished, she couldn't help but pop to the butcher shop down the way and purchase extra meat for both her and Jamie's dinner AND for the dogs. She also managed to procure some large bones that the Butcher would have thrown out anyway.

"Alright, alright!" Abigail laughed and quickly walked past them, "Calm down, I have food for you both here!"

She led them into the kitchen and decided to distract them with the bones BEFORE she attempted to cook a meal. She'd rather not have them waiting around her feet, ready encase she dropped anything.

As she moved back around the table and towards the basket she'd dumped, she happened to look into the living room and...that's when she saw it.

A new armchair, that hadn't been there the night before. Right across from Jamie's.

She walked over to it and smiled, knowing only he would have thought of something like this after her 'taken spot' comments from the night before.

She slowly ran her fingers over the back of it, marveling at its cleanliness and beautiful fabric. Whilst old, like her husband's, the upholstery was a completely opposite match to his. She'd chosen a simple, green chair, with no patterns on it and the style was very much something her own grandfather would have chosen.

But the one Jamie had selected was cushioned in all the right places and covered in roses and greenery.

He'd brought her a chair and she loved it.

Slowly, she sat herself down and enjoyed not only the feel of it but the fact she would be able to look at her husband from only a few feet away. The rug would be missed, but the armchair was definitely an improvement.

"I'm glad you like it."

She turned when he spoke and saw him leaning casually in the doorway of his study. She smiled warmly at him.

"I love it. You didn't have to," though she said it, she was very glad he had.

He walked to her and leaned over, bracing his hands either side of her on the arms of the chair.

"I wanted to. Now, you don't have to contend with the spot by the fire."

Unable to wait any longer and overflowing with the love she had for such a thoughtful and sweet gesture, she reached up, grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him down into a loving kiss.

When she pulled back, she rubbed the tip of her nose against his and stayed in that position as her other hand came up to hold the side of his face.

"Thank you. I wish there was something I could do for you."

"Mmm," she felt his own hand move and rest against the base of her throat, before it fell slowly downwards, his fingers coming to rest over her heart in between her breasts, "I'm sure I can think of something."

Abigail's hand let go of his shirt and moved down to grab his belt, biting her lip when she saw the fire and mischief in his eyes.

"Did I ever tell you I love the way you think?" She allowed him to pull her up and out of the seat, holding her against him for a moment.

"Mmm, I think so...bed?" He wiggled his brow once and she had to stop herself from laughing.

"Go on then," she quickly planted another kiss on his lips, before pulling away with a grin, "the first one up gets to take off my bloomers."

They both eagerly raced upstairs, though Jamie did cheat by picking her up around the waist and putting her behind him. She wasted no time in grabbing hold of the back of his trousers and their laughter rang out as they both clambered up the stairs.

The dogs watched and listened, bemused at the sounds of laughter, thumping of feet on the floor and finally, an excited squeal from Abigail as she was tackled onto the bed.

Then, whilst the sounds turned into hearty moans and cries, they both looked towards the new and old seats, finally seeing their opportunity when they thought their owners had retired for the day.

A little while later...

As they slowly descended the stairs, both were fiddling happily with their clothes as they casually chatted.

"I don't know about you, but I am exhausted," Abigail said as she laced up her bodice, tying it back into the pretty bow she'd originally had before her husband had pulled it apart with his teeth.

"Satiated, Love. Definitely, well and truly satiated," he smiled as he tucked the back of his shirt into his trousers.

"Satisfied?" She glanced over her shoulder at him and couldn't help but smile at his ruffled hair (which he had yet to notice).

"Perfect word."

"I-OI! YOU LITTLE SODS!" Abigail looked aghast at the scene she saw over the banister in the living room and Jamie quickly followed her gaze and saw why.

Both dogs had curled themselves up in either chair and had obviously been fast asleep, but Abigail's yell had them both wide awake and looking VERY guilty.

She quickly stomped down the rest of the stairs and over to them, pointing dramatically to the kitchen.

"OFF. NOW."

They both heard her tone of voice and hopped down quickly, but both walked away slowly, with their heads hanging low and their tails in between their legs.

"Well...at least they know who their master is. Well done," Jamie walked behind her, though did feel SLIGHTLY guilty at the sight of the two sitting down in the kitchen and looking very chastised.

Abigail turned around and folded her arms.

"Mistress, actually."

"Well...shared entitlement?" Jamie said cheekily, but his smile faded when she gave him 'the look' and he quickly changed tack.

"I'll just-I'll have a look at what we have for dinner," he moved away to the kitchen quickly, though Abigail had seen the nervousness in his eyes.

She couldn't help but smile.

After all, she was going to make it perfectly clear to the dogs exactly WHO was the boss in the house.


	21. Rescue P1

Rescue! P1

Jamie had arrived home, admiring the newly cleaned path, porch and door, knowing his wife was taking the opportunity with the good weather to clean the house outside as well as in.

He was half tempted to pick the flowers growing along the path again, but he thought better of it when he'd met her ire last time. A simple, romantic gesture had turned to him on his knees and playfully begging her forgiveness as he ran his hand up under her skirt and between her legs.

_'Perhaps I should pick the flowers after all.'_

Walking in through the door, he found his wife seated in her armchair with her back to him. She was crouched over and held a small letter in one hand.

"Darling?" Jamie walked over when she did not turn to him and placed a hand on her shoulder, "Is everything alright?"

Slowly, she turned her head to look at him. One look at her face told him that she was not alright.

"Abigail, what's wrong?" Jamie moved quickly around and knelt in front of her, his hands moving over her arms as he tried to soothe her.

Her face was pale and gaunt as though she had seen a ghost and her eyes were wide with fear.

"It's Teddy," she whispered and glanced back down at the letter in her hands, "he's in trouble."

She offered him the letter and he took it, reading over what was written.

_Abigail and James Norrington,_

_You do not know me, but I am a friend. Your brother Theodore is in trouble. He is being held against his will in Tortuga. Please come quickly._

_A_

"A for anonymous, perhaps?" Jamie said out loud and then looked back at his wife. She saw the doubt in his eyes and shook her head.

"I can't take the chance that this is a joke of some kind. Jamie," tears fell down her cheeks as she reached and grabbed his hand, "I've been thinking about this for hours and I-I know all the possibilities. This might not be real, but I cannot stay here and wait it out. Jamie."

Jamie's hand rested over her own, feeling the tight grip as she shook. If she had truly been thinking about it, then there was no point in trying to talk her out of it. He could see the desperation and knew to ask her to sit around and wait for word on her brother would perhaps drive her insane...he wouldn't do that to her.

"I know. You don't have to ask and I won't warn you it'll be dangerous. You know," he raised her hand to his lips and pressed a reassuring kiss to her knuckles, "we'll go tomorrow. First thing."

Without another word, Abigail threw her arms around his shoulders and held him tight. She wasn't just thankful that he understood, but that he would come with her.

"Thank you," she whispered and let her tears fall as she buried her face into his neck, "I didn't know what to do. He's my-my Teddy. I can't lose him again."

"I know, Love...but we have to be cautious when we go back there," he remembered the last experience they had with old shipmates and had promised both himself and her that he would not let that happen to them again, "we have to be discreet...perhaps even go in disguise."

Abigail pulled away with a frown.

"You're going to have to shave that beard, aren't you?"

Jamie nodded and let out a quick, soft chuckle at her pout.

"Well...looks like we'll have to pull out those clothes I never thought we'd use again...or that I wish we never needed again," she let out a sigh before she dried her tears on her hand, "I best go to Winnie and ask her if she'll check in on the dogs."

Almost on cue, both dogs that had been laying down on the rug perked up and looked over.

"Bertie, Jules," Abigail stood up and looked down at them, pointing her finger at each one, "You BOTH behave yourselves whilst we're away. Am I clear?"

"Do you have to shorten their names?" Jamie watched her walk over and bend down, scratching them both behind the ears.

"I'm not going around calling after them 'Bartholomew' and 'Julie'. Honestly, why did I let you pick the names?" She scowled at him and it grew deeper when he grinned.

"Because I won the coin flip."

She turned away from him and he heard her mumble, though he was pretty sure she was mimicking him. Still, at least she was temporarily distracted away from the task at hand.

Xx Tortuga xX

The trip to Tortuga had been a lot quicker than the last time he'd taken it. Especially travelling with his wife, safe in his arms. The carriage rides had been silent, but it wasn't too comfortable. She was worried. The closer they got to Tortuga, the closer they got to the truth. Would Teddy be alright? Was he really being held or was this a cruel joke? Or worse...was he already...

Jamie suppressed those thoughts for Abigail. He couldn't start thinking like that, because it would show and he didn't want her to panic anymore than she was already trying to hide.

He only held her close and wouldn't let her go until they had to stop to eat, stretch their legs or arrive at the nearest bedsit for the night.

Finally, on the night before their arrival back to the old, familiar port, Jamie shaved his beard, donned the clothes of his choosing and made sure to have his hair hidden underneath a hat.

As he looked himself in the mirror, he saw Abigail preparing her own pile.

"Tomorrow, I'll go on ahead and make sure it's safe," Jamie looked over his shoulder at her reflection, hoping she wouldn't argue with him, "once I've gotten a good lay of the place again, I'll come back to get you and we'll search together."

Surprisingly, when Abigail looked up, she merely nodded. Her compliance was...a little shocking. Usually, she'd bluster on about 'a load of fuss and nonsense' and would have insisted she go with him.

It almost unsettled him. But then, he put down her compliant attitude to her worry about Teddy.

Of course, had he been able to read her mind, he would know she was never that simple.

Abigail was planning to look around by herself and to do so, she would have to let her husband go alone for a while. After all, he was very protective of her.

The next evening...

When Jamie left Abigail, his first visit had not been to any of the inns. It was straight to one of the old merchants he'd known during the heavier days of his drinking and the one man with whom he had a little respect for. For the right price, he'd always tell the truth.

With the money Jamie gave him, as well as his description of Teddy, the man pointed out the three inns that Teddy had frequented over a week ago. Jamie spent most of the day either discreetly asking questions or having a little look around. The first one had turned up clean and he could see no feasible way that he'd be hidden in a place that had no attic and a cellar so crammed of barrels, he could barely move about the place.

Jamie had arrived at the second inn, just when the sun had set and the crowds had thickened. He was downstairs making his normal, secretive enquiries to a fellow occupant (who seemed ready to spill the beans on his own mother) when the usual fight broke out.

He remembered those days well and thanked his lucky stars he was steady enough on his feet that he wouldn't get chucked in pig swill. He hoped.

It was over in a matter of minutes for him, no one really wanting to challenge such a skilled swordfighter who hadn't even broken a sweat after disarming and knocking out at least ten men on his own.

A smaller scuffle caught his attention. Towards the back, the man whom he'd been talking to suddenly ran out the door and following him was a young lad, hot on his heels.

Jamie followed immediately, running outside and through the dark alleyway, only slowing down when he turned corners so he could look around them first.

He saw men lying unconscious and propped up against walls, the girls with their clients and finally, at the end of one alleyway was his 'friend' being steered by the youth. Who was also pointing a sword at him.

He followed quietly and waited until they had come to a secret spot, the youth talking to the man who quivered and held his hands up in surrender.

Jamie immediately pulled his own sword out.

"You there!" He called out loud enough to startle the youth. They turned, their face covered in shadow but the man took the distraction as his opportunity. He tackled the youth, disarming their blade and sent them crashing down the floor.

"Cheers mate!" The man called, waving at Jamie before dashing off in the opposite direction. Jamie wasted no time and before the lad had a chance to pull themselves up and give chase, Jamie looped his arm around his waist and pulled him up and off the ground. The lad made a very interesting 'squeak' sound as he did so and began to thrash about.

"Lad, stop struggling," Jamie tried to remain calm as the youth began to violently kick out, before stilling at his words, "Now-"

"Jamie. Put me down. Right now."

Jamie knew that voice all too well.

Slowly, he placed the 'youth' back on 'his feet' and when they turned around, he was met with a very cold glare by his wife.

"Bloody hell, man!" She pushed him angrily, though not too hard and began to readjust herself, "You frightened the LIFE out of me!"

"Sorry, I didn't know it was you!" He held up his hands in surrender because it looked like she was about to hit him again.

"Yes, well I figured that when you called me 'lad'!" She sighed, letting most of her anger dissipate as she tried to think optimistically, "Well, if I can fool you, I can fool anyone."

Jamie watched as she fiddled with her sleeves again, but furrowed his brow when she clutched at her stomach and her face contorted into discomfort.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, just feel sick again, it'll pass. I just need to take some of Winnie's disgusting medicine."

"You're ill, you shouldn't-"

"It's a stomach bug, I'm fine," she changed the subject and smiled at him as she brushed off the dust from the front of her coat, "and if your hands had been any higher, you would have copped a feel."

Jamie couldn't help but look down at her. She was wearing a normal coat and trousers, but beneath that lay a tunic and whilst it WOULD fool a lot of other people, he knew what binding lay down there.

"I mean, you've hidden them very well. Just wanted to check if they were still there."

Abigail blushed furiously and rolled her eyes.

"Come on, we've got to go and find another place Teddy was spotted."

"How do you know where he was spotted?" Jamie quickly marched up as she walked off.

"I followed you. Made the same enquiries. I just wasn't as polite," Abigail shrugged her shoulders, but it wasn't fooling Jamie.

"Is this why you didn't want to come with me?"

"Yes. Sorry about that, darling. It's just...you get very protective and I couldn't have you shadowing me. It would have looked suspicious. At least now, that man might spread the word that you're a decent fellow."

"Yes, but he might also give people your description."

"See," she stared at him, giving him an 'I told you so' look, "protective."

"Nonsense," of course, Jamie completely nulled his comment when he placed his hand on her lower back to steer her out of the way from a drunk sailor.

Abigail could only sigh. Tonight was not going to be easy.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As the night grew darker and the drunken revellers were in full swing, Abigail and Jamie made their way to the last destination that Teddy had been spotted by. The one that they were least looking forward to.

Unlike the 'Twelve Daggers', the King's arms had been a place that even Jamie had avoided in his drunken days. The idea of a quiet drink and pleasant food...was not something you would find there. If there was silence, it was because someone commanded it. And the power shift would change constantly. The girls that worked the area even steered clear unless they were specifically 'bought' by the pub. Jamie wanted to pick Abigail up, throw her over his shoulder and march her back to their bedsit. But short of tying her down, he knew she wouldn't stay. She was here to find her brother and he was here to help.

"Into the King's Arms, it is," Abigail squared her shoulders and lowered her hat farther, trying to appear 'intimidating' as they made their way through the crowds, towards the pub.

"More like Lion's den. Stay close."

"Jamie," Abigail's tone brokered no argument as she stepped away from him, "not like this. People will bloody get suspicious."

"Alright, just...stay out of trouble," his hand came down again and he had to resist the urge to at least reach out and touch her, reassuring them both it would be alright.

Quietly, they walked inside and found the place quite lively. Musicians were playing a song and whilst the crowd was not as thick or as loud as Twelve Daggers, there were still some pirates that even Jamie could tell they had to steer clear from. Especially Abigail.

As they approached the bar and found some vacant places, Jamie reminded himself to keep his distance from Abigail.

"Lass. Two Ales for me and me' chum," Abigail deepened her voice slightly and pointed her thumb at Jamie and he had to bite the inside of his cheek at her attempt to behave more 'manly'.

The girl behind the bar gave Abigail a curious squint before moving about and pouring out two cups.

Jamie reached into his pocket and pulled out the money and as he placed it in her palm, her hand outstretched to him, he saw the way Abigail suddenly sat straight forward and stared at the girl.

"Your lover give you that?" She nodded her head and Jamie looked down at the girl's wrist. A plain, clean black ribbon that had been tied into a simple bow was around the girl's wrist and whilst it was the ribbon he was looking at, he couldn't help but notice the little bruises that went up along her arm and disappeared back under her sleeve.

Snatching her arm back, she looked nervously between the two.

"A friend," bright blue eyes looked back at Abigail, but they both saw it. The quiver. The fear. She knew something.

She turned away from them and grabbed a large bucket of dirty cutlery and shouted at the door nearest her, "Cathy! Your turn!"

A woman with bright, fiery red hair came out and replaced the girl behind the bar. Just before she left, she looked one last time at Jamie before she vanished into the back.

As Cathy began to tidy up and serve other patrons, Abigail turned to Jamie.

"Follow me outside," she casually downed her drink and strode away from the bar, Jamie following suit.

As they moved back outside, among the crowds, she turned about to the side of the pub and made her way around the dark alleyway.

"What is it?" Jamie asked as they slowed down and began to step a lot more cautiously around the corner, their backs pressed against the wall.

"That ribbon was Teddy's," Abigail's voice was thick with emotion and despite her earlier scolding, her hand came out and grabbed his sleeve.

"Are you sure?" They continued onward, Abigail ducking behind certain windows and peaking in others.

"Yes. I'm the one that gave it to him before he left on his first voyage. I gave it to him for luck," as they passed a lantern and she turned to look at him, he caught the certainty in her eyes, even before she said, "I would know it from any other ribbon in the world."

They came to a locked door and realising it was the back door for the King's arms, found a dusty, small window just by the side of it. Abigail bent over to look into it.

"Looks like a basement," she glanced back up at her husband, "think she went there?"

Jamie bent low next to her, his hand coming out to rest against her.

"Could be, but we have to be cautious. Can't scare her away. Do you see anything?" He squinted as he looked into the window and would have reached out to clean it, but he could see the window needed at least three buckets of water to get it clean.

"This'll be so much easier if I wasn't being distracted. Jamie," she sighed and he wondered what she saw that could make her sound so frustrated.

"Hmm?"

"Hand, darling."

He turned back to look at her, seeing a small smirk over her face. Did she want him to give her a hand with something?

"Do you-"

"Remove your hand from my bottom."

"...Oh," Jamie hadn't realised that he had actually cupped one her buttocks as he leant over and quickly pulled it away, "sorry."

"No, you're not."

"Excuse me?"

Both of them jumped, stood up straight and turned around. The voice that had spoken was that of the young girl from the tavern. In the dark light of the alleyway, her pale face and golden, curly hair made her look like a fallen angel.

She looked directly at Jamie and worried her hands together, lowering her voice.

"Are you James Norrington?"

"Yes. You?" Jamie felt Abigail tense next to him and wondered why the girl was not addressing her also.

"I-I know where your brother in law is. Please, you have to help him-"

Abigail moved forward and grabbed the girl by the shoulders, forcing her to look at her.

"Where is he? Where's my Theo?!" She said frantically and Jamie held back, knowing that crowding the girl would not help the situation. Especially when she looked at Abigail in confusion.

"Who are you? I don't-"

"I'm his sister," Abigail realised that the girl didn't know she was a woman and took off her hat to pull out her long, thick braid, "I'm the one you wrote the letter to, Abigail, tell me, where is he?!"

"...follow me."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The girl introduced herself as Adelaide as they walked along, sticking to the shadows of the alleyway as they went.

She told them how Teddy had come to end up in his predicament.

"He came by in his naval outfit for a week or two, looking for an old friend. He was kind to me and spoke to me whenever I had a break. But Johnny," Adelaide's little shudder did not bode well for what she was about to say, "doesn't like it when men are kind to me. Some of his friends told him how nice he was being."

"Johnny your father?" Abigail wondered what type of man wouldn't allow-

"Johnny...he's the one who owns me."

Abigail stopped dead and grabbed Adelaide's wrist.

"Owns you?!"

"He paid for my services the first night I arrived...and kept paying, as long as I stayed exclusively his," Adelaide looked ashamed as she admitted to Abigail, "and I have...but I can't let him get away with what he did to Theo."

Abigail's heart clenched.

"What-what did he do to my Teddy?"

"They caught him one day when we were talking...they beat him pretty bad," Adelaide's other hand came over Abigail's and squeezed, "and they took him over here."

Abigail allowed herself to be pulled along, though felt like her world was crashing down at the news that her brother had been beaten and was being held against his will. The only calm in the storm of her mind, was the weight on her shoulder, knowing Jamie's hand was there.

As they came out of the alleyway, Adelaide stopped them and pointed to a dingy building with two floors and a crumbling roof.

"He's in there. They've got im' in the attic."

"How badly did they hurt him?" Abigail looked up at the house, knowing her brother was so close and yet...so unreachable.

"There was a lot of blood, but he's tough. He was still talking to me when they let me bring him some food. Johnny said they wouldn't kill him until they found out if he was worth anything, so-wait!" Adelaide reached out as Abigail moved past her and made her way towards the house.

"I've got to help him!"

Strong arms suddenly grabbed her around the waist and held her back.

"Love, you need to calm down-"

"Jamie, you let me go, NOW!" Abigail was pulled back and smacked at her husband's arms, "I have to go to him-"

"You cannot go in there like this, you'll get yourself killed!"

Jamie pulled her back into the alleyway, Adelaide standing aside as he tried to calm his wife down.

Finally, he stood in front of her, blocking her from running off again.

"They could very well be hurting him! Jamie, let me go-"

"Not a chance, if you go in there now, they'll kill you! Stop and think, WOMAN!" He growled at her and that last statement got her attention.

Whilst she bristled at being spoken to in such a harsh way...she saw his point. Behind the cloud of anger and fear, she saw that she couldn't just rush in.

"We need a plan...we need to get him out of there quickly and quietly," he was a lot gentler with her now, especially when he saw the fire die down in her eyes.

"You wouldn't be able to get in. It doesn't look it, be the house is full of his men. Johnny likes to keep 15-20 men around him at all times and there's always two patrolling outside so no one can get in. He thinks he's important."

"Sounds like Sparrow," Abigail scoffed and folded her arms. Adelaide gave her a cold glare.

"You know Jack?" Her voice dripped with venom at the mere mention of his name and Jamie could only roll his eyes.

"Oh, for god sake, does everyone know him?!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After some discussion and everyone inputting their own ideas, a plan was hatched. Distraction, infiltration and then rescue.

And Adelaide happily volunteered herself as the distraction.

"Anything for Theodore. He's the only man that hasn't tried to cop a feel," she smiled at Abigail and she couldn't help but return it.

"That's my Teddy. A gentleman through and through."

Jamie hid back farther into the alleyway, letting the two women initiate the first part of the plan.

Adelaide let out a soft cry and ran off towards the house. Abigail waited and as soon as the men appeared in front of Adelaide, she knew what she had to do.

Adelaide was telling them that she was being 'bothered' by a young lad and pointed to where she had come out of. Abigail stepped into the light and with one, perfectly aimed shot, threw a tomato at one of the men.

And if that wasn't enough, she gave them the rudest hand salute she knew.

She ran back into the shadows of the alleyway, hearing the shouts and heavy footfalls as the men gave chase.

She didn't get too far and turned around waiting for them to come to her.

As they entered the tight passage, Jamie ambushed the last man through and knocked him out quickly.

His two friends, hearing the scuffle, turned about in shock and raised their weapons. Since the one first through the alleyway was being distracted by her husband, Abigail picked up the nearest item she could find (a barrel) and smashed it over the back of his head. He fell down and just as the other man went for her husband, she set upon his back and kicked out his legs beneath him.

He hadn't even reached the floor before they were both on him and he was out like a light.

Tying them up together and propping them against the wall of the alleyway was the easy part.

Now that the outside of the house wasn't covered, here came the tricky part.

Jamie volunteered himself to go up and get Theodore out. That meant climbing up along the side quietly, in through the attic window, carrying Theodore out and somehow, getting him back down without dropping him.

Considering they didn't have any more ideas themselves, the girls reluctantly went along with it, though Abigail was still hesitant.

"I should go, I'm lighter and can climb that wall like a spider!"

"Darling, that may be true, but you'd still have to carry your brother down again," just before he scaled the wall, up along an old, broken ladder, his hand cupped her cheek and pulled her close, "one of us has to go up there. And you have to stay here. If anything happens-"

"If anything happens, I will not run and hide, so don't you dare ask," Abigail's hand slipped around the back of his neck and silencing any further argument he may have had, pulled him down into a firm, loving kiss.

When they pulled away, she looked into his eyes and said, "be careful."

"Always am," he smiled at her before he reluctantly let her go.

She stepped away and watched him ascend, slowly and cautiously up along the rungs. She said a silent prayer as she heard each heavy creak with the steps he took and could only hope that if it broke when he came down with Theodore, she might be able to help break their fall.

When Jamie disappeared through the window and there were no more sounds, she could only wait. And hope.

Xx Jamie xX

Jamie's feet landed on the floor quietly, only making the slightest tapping noise. He was sure if someone below heard it, they would have to have extraordinary hearing to come up and investigate.

But he had no time to listen to the sounds of the loud and drunken shouts below. His eyes were on a figure, who was tied to a chair with his back to him, at the other end of the room.

Quickly but quietly, he made his way over.

"Theodore?" He called out when he was close enough and came around to look into his brother-in-law's face. He winced when he saw the markings on poor Theodore's face, even in the darkened shadows of the attic. One of his eyes was completely swollen shut, his nose was bloodied AND more than likely broken and the various cuts and bruises seemed to disappear below his shirt.

Abigail was going to bloody kill those pirates if she got her hands on them.

"Theodore," Jamie knelt down and gently tapped Theodore on an untarnished spot by his cheek, "if you can hear me, it's Jamie. I'm going to get you out of here."

"You're not going anyway."

Jamie turned quickly but shut his eyes when a bright light suddenly illuminated the room. He shielded his gaze too late and couldn't avoid the powerful blow that came down on the back of his head.

He crashed to the floor, his head pounding as he fought consciousness. Sharp pain from a boot in his back helped keep him awake long enough.

He looked up to see a man grinning down back at him.

Tanned skin. Black hair. Handsome, but smug. This must be Johnny.

"Another one to add to the pot. Tie him up and question him when he comes back around."

Jamie saw the butt of a gun come towards him and braced himself. Pain reverberated through his forehead, but his only thought as he slipped into darkness was that Abigail was safe. Was that he may have failed her, but if she could get help, then there was still a chance.

Unless she did something utterly 'Abigail.'

Xx Abigail xX

Abigail strained her ears but could hear no more.

They'd got him. Jamie had fallen into their hands and now these pirates had both her beloved brother and husband.

Even as Adelaide pulled her away and back into the alleyway for safety, Abigail kept looking back at the house, waiting for Jamie to suddenly jump dramatically from the window with her brother on his back.

But he never came. And she heard no more noise over the din of the drunken singing and shouts.

As she lent up against the wall, her heart began to race.

Now what?

"I should have gone up. Bloody, blast I'm faster!" She groaned and punched the wall behind her in frustration, "We need to think quickly! Adelaide is there any other way inside?! Is there-"

"I don't know what we can do! We're just girls!" Adelaide looked panicked and her frazzled hair fell about her shoulders and glowed brightly in the window light behind her.

"When the hell has that ever-"

Abigail stopped short. She was a girl. As was Adelaide.

"Adelaide, you're right. YOU'RE BLOODY RIGHT. We've been going about this all wrong. We've planned to sneak in or go in guns blazing, but...we're girls. We can go in."

Abigail suddenly moved forward with a hopeful smile and grabbed hold of Adelaide's shoulders.

"Adelaide, do you have a dress I can borrow?!"

End of Part 1


	22. Rescue P2

Rescue! P2

The next time Jamie awoke, he felt like literal hell. The last time he'd woken up feeling like death...he'd actually died. But this time, the pain was all over, not just in his head.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. By the feel of everything, his face was pretty bruised and cut up. The familiar swelling around his face felt tender and he must have been knocked about pretty good as he lay unconscious. But as his senses returned to him, he realised he was no longer laying down on the floor.

He was sat upon a chair, tight bindings around his arms, hands, and legs. He could also feel he was tied to something...or someone.

He turned his head and could just make out Teddy's shoulder behind his own.

"Sunshine is awake," a voice said in front of him and made him turn back around, "nice of you to join us. Fancy a cuppa'?"

He glared the best he could as the men in front of him began to laugh at the little joke.

The three before him were the same as before, Johnny lurking in the shadows as he watched.

His men goaded and talked to Jamie, asking him questions they knew he wouldn't answer. He either responded with mute silence or a smart-arse comment and waited for their reply.

He always prepared himself for the swift punch, though the pain spreading through was like a fire he couldn't put out. Still, he had to hold on to that one piece of hope...that one little spark that his wife had somehow gone to get help and that someone would come.

In his dizzied, pained state he heard the door to the attic swing open and someone call out.

"Johnny," a man appeared and gestured with his thumb over his shoulder, "Adey's downstairs. She's got some refreshments and she's brought a friend."

Jamie suddenly went very stiff.

She wouldn't...she didn't...

_'Of course, she bloody did.'_

Johnny looked back over at Jamie and Theodore and smirked.

"We'll be back later. They're not going anywhere. Let's go have some fun, lads. See what Adey's brought us."

The men slowly filtered out of the room, one taking a quick opportunity to spit on Jamie's face. But he still didn't move. He feigned falling into unconsciousness again, waiting until the last man was out the door.

He heard Theodore stir behind him and realised he'd been pretending as well.

"Jamie...you shouldn't have come," he mumbled incoherently, but Jamie knew he was worried by the facts.

"I did. We did. And sadly, I think she didn't listen to me," he groaned, not wanting to think about what was going on downstairs, "I'll bloody kill her if she gets herself killed."

"Who?"

"Your sister."

Xx Abigail xX

Abigail was used to wearing dresses but...she'd never worn the likes of which Adelaide produced for her. Not only was Adelaide smaller, but her dresses were...lowcut, to say the least. The deep, red wine colour was fine and the skirts were a little tatty, but the bodice really only just covered her. She felt...very exposed.

'That's how Johnny likes them,' Adelaide had told her as she helped lace her up, purposefully pushing her breasts even farther up so they were wedged tightly against the already straining fabric.

Abigail was sure that if she bent over too quickly, she'd spill straight out. And she didn't really know if the tightness of her bodice was causing the dizzy spells and light-headedness or if it was the nerves, but she shook herself and fought against it.

She had to concentrate. For her brother and for Jamie.

When she had arrived inside the house, a large basket of food and wine they'd carefully prepared tucked over her arm, she did a quick count as her eyes roamed the room.

Adelaide had not been too far off her count, thirteen men seated downstairs as another four appeared from above. Abigail had planned her character out perfectly. She couldn't appear confident and brash in front of these men. They'd be on her in a second. So she made herself as shy and quiet as she could until the four men split off and one came towards them.

She could already tell, THIS was the man who had her husband and brother.

"Johnny!" Adelaide cried joyously and threw her arms around the man's neck. He allowed her to affectionately plant a kiss on his cheek, though his hands wandered over her body in a lusty manner that made Abigail want to grimace.

He caught her eye and pushed back Adelaide as he nodded at Abigail.

"Who's this, Adey?"

"This is my cousin, Martha," Adey turned to Abigail and waved her hand out, "well come on, don't be shy."

Abigail was glad they had planned and rehearsed a little before coming in because she probably wouldn't have known to be polite and courteous.

She grabbed her skirt, bowed her head low, and curtsied as best she could.

"How do you do, sir?" She righted herself and looked back at Johnny, who sure enough, burst into laughter.

"Sir, is it? I like this one," something predatory flashed in his eyes as he leaned closer to Adelaide, "where did you find her?"

"Just arrived, fresh off the boat. She's actually a distant Cousin," Adelaide moved back and swung her own basket out for Johnny and the others to see, "thought you could help us celebrate. She's never been far from home before."

"No, I can tell," Johnny's eyes wandered down over the swell of Abigail's breasts and she resisted the urge to cover herself.

She and Adelaide moved around, giving food and pouring drinks for those that asked for it. Continuously, she jumped whenever a hand landed on her clothed backside, or an arm slipped around her waist to pull her close, but they never held her long once she explained she still had to give Johnny his drink.

She smiled sweetly, though some of her happiness was real when she saw them eagerly glug down the wine they'd prepared.

When she moved over to Johnny, he was sprawled out in the corner on an old, scraggly looking lounger. Adelaide was next to him, tucked against his side, though Abigail had grown to know this girl in such a short time, that her bored expression was merely a façade.

Johnny watched her approach and let her pour him a glass of wine. Once she was finished, he didn't grab her or touch her. Instead, he patted his knee closest to her and gestured for her to sit.

Disgust and revulsion rolled in her stomach as she sat down, her head bowed as she looked down at his clothed chest.

"So, Martha," Johnny cocked his head and licked his lips at her, "what are you good at?"

Abigail blinked at him a couple of times, not knowing where on earth he was going with that line of inquiry.

"I-I don't understand? I can sew and play the piano-" she shut her mouth when he let out a loud laugh and jogged her up and down on his knee, so she slid a little closer to him.

He pulled Adelaide tighter against him and shook her in his arm.

"My lovely girl here didn't tell you? She's very good with her mouth. And her hands."

Abigail looked at her friend, who had painted on a 'happy face', but if Johnny had turned and seen the loathing in her eyes, they wouldn't have been safe much longer.

Abigail knew now what he was asking and played her role up, ducking her head away shyly.

"I-I don't know what I'm good at...I've never...well," she looked at Adelaide and raised her eyebrows, "I told you, Adey. I haven't...you know!"

Adelaide caught on quickly and pressed her lips close to Johnny's ear.

"Oh, Johnny," she stage-whispered so only the three of them could hear, "she's never laid with a man before. I told you, she's fresh."

Johnny's eyes flared as his spare hand wove around Abigail's back.

"Is that so? Never been handled by a real man before?"

_'I've been with the best man. The only man who has ever made me crave his touch night and day. The only man who I could call 'real', unlike you.' _

"No, sir," she shook her head, trying to fight down the words that threatened to spill out.

"Well, it's a good thing you got one right here."

He moved suddenly, dislodging Abigail from his knee and allowing Adelaide to tumble slightly into the table.

His hands came about Abigail's waist and pulled her roughly against him. She had to put her hands against his shoulders so she wouldn't stumble and fall and he leered down at her.

"We'll discover what else you're good at."

His lips suddenly came down against hers and whilst all the men around them cheered, Abigail shut her eyes and tried not to bite his tongue as it slipped into her own mouth.

Instead, she softened and relaxed the best she could and just let him kiss her, as though she had no experience with that either.

When he pulled away, she was shaking with unbridled anger and her cheeks were flushed red.

Johnny thought it was another emotion she was feeling.

"Look at you...you can't wait for me to take you," he pushed his body against hers and let out a deep, low growl. But before he could carry Abigail away (which she probably thought he would), Adelaide slipped her arms around him and pushed herself up on tiptoes so he had to look at her.

"But first don't I get you all to myself this evening? I had such a special treat planned," she playfully pouted and rubbed her breasts against him. Johnny suddenly looked very interested and his hands slipped from Abigail's waist.

"Martha, would you clear up and entertain this lot so I can have a few minutes alone with him?" She fluttered her lashes at Abigail, "Please, sweetie?"

Abigail admired the way Adelaide could act and reminded herself to pick up a few pointers for future reference.

"Alright, I can...join you in a bit, if that's alright?" She looked back at Johnny, hoping he would fall for it.

He licked his lips and grabbed her chin in one hand.

"I'll get her to warm me up for you. You'll have a night you'll never forget, Martha."

Abigail smiled again and spoke the truest words in response.

"I don't doubt that."

As Adelaide stole Johnny upstairs and Abigail was left in the room with all these men, she thought quickly. One or two were already starting to look a little worse for wear and she had to distract the others long enough for the wine to work. She hoped that apothecary had given them the strong stuff.

She stood up at the front, away from prying hands and cleared her throat.

"How about a song, lads?"

They all slurred and cheered, some raising their glasses to her. She was pleased that they were at least pleasant drunks.

She took a few deep breaths and thought of the first song she knew off the top of her head. One that she'd been practising at home and that even Jamie had told her suited her far better than any of the others she sung.

The place fell into silence and waited for her. As the first words left her mouth, she wondered if Jamie and Theo could hear her now.

_Are you going to Scarborough Fair?_

_Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme;_

_Remember me to one who lives there,_

_For she was once a true love of mine._

_Tell her to make me a cambric shirt,_

_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;_

_Without any seam or needlework,_

_Then she shall be a true love of mine._

_Tell her to wash it in yonder well,_

_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;_

_Where never sprung water or rain ever fell,_

_And she shall be a true lover of mine._

_Tell her to dry it on yonder thorn,_

_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;_

_Which never bore blossom since Adam was born,_

_Then she shall be a true lover of mine._

Xx Jamie xX

Jamie listened to the soft voice from below. He didn't know what she was planning, but God, he hoped it worked.

Or, at the very least, he supposed he should be thankful that the last thing he would hear was his sweet wife's voice.

He remembered how she'd been practising at home and whilst it wasn't the most idyllic or heavenly voice, it wasn't out of tune. Possibly, because she knew not to overdo it and held herself back from trying to hide.

"Gabby," Theo moaned groggily and his head lolled back against Jamie's. He could hear her also.

"Yes, she's coming to save us," Jamie smiled, despite his pain and predicament, "she's got something planned. And then, she'll get both of us out of here."

"Oh God, I'm going to get an earful from Gabby when I get out of this, I just know it."

"Oh, I heard. She was practising on the journey over."

Theo's response was to groan, partially in pain, but mostly because Abigail WOULD berate him for getting himself caught by pirates. Jamie was expecting the same speech when they were home.

Xx Abigail xX

As Abigail continued to sing, she shut her eyes and hummed the tune as gently as she could. She was not to show off or try too hard. It was a lullaby she was singing after all.

_Now he has asked me questions three,_

_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;_

_I hope he'll answer as many for me,_

_Before he shall be a true lover of mine._

_Tell him to buy me an acre of land,_

_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;_

_Between the saltwater and the sea sand,_

_Then he shall be a true lover of mine._

_Tell him to plow it with a ram's horn,_

_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;_

_And sow it all over with one peppercorn,_

_And he shall be a true lover of mine._

_Tell him to sheer it with a sickle of leather,_

_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;_

_And bind it up with a peacock's feather,_

_And he shall be a true lover of mine._

_Tell him to thrash it on yonder wall,_

_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,_

_And never let one corn of it fall,_

_Then he shall be a true lover of mine._

_When he has done and finished his work._

_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme:_

_Oh, tell him to come and he'll have his shirt,_

_And he shall be a true lover of mine._

As she finished, she kept her eyes shut and waited with bated breath. No applause. No shouts or cheers.

She could only hear the sound of light breathing.

When she did open them, she looked around at each face and made sure...they were all asleep.

Quickly, but quietly, she got to work and bound feet together and hands to chairs and tables. If they were to awake this would buy them some time. Just for good measure, she took what swords and weapons she could find and tossed them outside the nearest window. She didn't know how long the drought would last and hurried up the stairs as best she could.

She saw doors in front of her, but it was the door Adelaide had told her about that caught her attention. A broken frame and slightly crooked, the attic door was shut. But unlocked.

She approached it, ready to sneak in and get her husband and brother out when she heard a sudden cry from the room opposite her.

A woman's cry.

She didn't hesitate and opened the door slowly, hearing the crying grow as she gazed in.

Adelaide was laying stomach down on the bed, with Johnny naked and on top of her back. One arm held her roughly, pinning her to the bed whilst the other disappeared underneath her skirt.

Neither noticed Abigail standing in the door.

"Please, Johnny! No, not there!" Adelaide cried out as Johnny's hands worked below, squirming and trying to get away from him.

"Come on, cupcake," he leaned down and licked her neck, "you did it last week."

"Please! Please, it hurt me! I had to go to the doctor- AH!"

The arm on her shoulder moved and his hand grabbed a chunk of her hair, pulled it back roughly.

"You'll get used to it. Be a good girl," his mouth moved over her, his teeth biting none too gently against her skin.

_"No...No! Please, no, I can't-MMM!" She was stopped halfway through her protests as a large hand covered her mouth and part of her nose, the smell of alcohol, tobacco, and something she didn't want to know, evident on his hands._

_"Bite down and I'll make it twice as painful for you," he hissed against her ear and his other hand dipped below the waistband of her trousers as he moved her shirt out of the way._

_Abigail tried to struggle, but he just ground harder against her, the pain of the brickwork rubbing against her cheek and threatening to crush her skull if it wasn't for the hand around her mouth holding her. Her jaw was already beginning to ache with the amount of pressure on it and she whined and bit on her tongue to stop herself from crying as she felt his hand clasp around one of her buttocks._

Abigail knew that fear all too well. And she wasn't about to let anything happen to Adelaide.

She took a step into the room and prepared herself.

"Stop it! Leave her alone!"

Johnny looked up at her and for a moment, the smile on his face disappeared.

Abigail began to shake. She was angry, but this wasn't part of the plan. This wasn't...she didn't know what to do.

"Leave her," she gulped and remembered to sound less confident as she did so, "please. I don't want you to hurt her."

Johnny's smile returned and he clambered off a shaking Adelaide and walked boldly towards Abigail, his naked body on display for her.

She did not shrink or back away.

He grabbed her chin roughly when he was close enough and looked into her face.

"There's a fire in you. You hid that well," he did not sound disappointed at all by this discovery. In fact, it seemed to stoke his own fire as he hungrily looked at her.

She took a deep breath and calmed herself, knowing what would happen if she lost her temper. She'd say something back that would earn her a slap and it'd all go to hell.

She pulled back her anger, smiled in what she hoped was a flirtatious way and took a brave step forward.

"Are you going to put it out for me?"

His eyes flashed again and his hand slipped down from her chin and over her throat.

"You'd like me to?" He tightened his grip ever so slightly, but Abigail did not blanch, "You'd like me to control that fire inside of you?"

She moved her hands to his chest and slowly let them wander down, smoothing out the flesh and tracing the scars beneath her fingers.

"I think first we both need to learn some control."

She turned to look over at Adelaide, who was sitting and watching, trying to control her tears.

"Cousin, dear...do you think you could make some space for us?"

She nodded and shimmied off of the bed, moving towards the vanity to hurriedly lace up her own dress. Abigail felt another jolt of anger at the new, red welt Johnny had given her across her back.

She looked back at him and was unsure of how to control him. Knowing that one wrong move could mean it all going to pot.

But she knew that if she could tempt him onto the bed, then that'd be a victory.

"Go and sit down then," she let her hands fall from his body and gave him a cheeky smile. He smiled back, but there was a dangerous edge to his tone.

"Are you telling me what to do, Martha?"

"Aye'. Because I know, once I get in that bed with you, you'll have me...all of me," she gulped nervously, though mostly because she was adlibbing the first thing that came to her head, "but I don't know if I'll be able to control myself with you. You're the first man and...I want to make it good for you."

His smile did not falter and he seemed to contemplate this.

_'Please work. Please be stupid enough.'_

Abigail hoped and prayed that she wouldn't have to lay with this man to distract him whilst Adelaide went and rescued the boys. But if it came to it...to save them, she would.

Luckily, Johnny seemed to buy it, though his next words sent a chill down her spine.

"I could just throw you down and fuck you right on the floor. You would love that," he moved in for a kiss, his hand falling from her neck to cup her breast, "I could make you scream and beg."

She turned her head at the last minute, but placed her lips close to his ear and said, "I'm sure I taste much sweeter when I'm willing. And you can fuck me into the floor later. But," she moaned as he kneaded her flesh and threw her head back, "I want to ride you. Don't you want me to?"

Johnny stilled at her words and pulled away, a shocked expression on his face.

"For a virgin girl, you have a fantastic tongue," he chuckled and finally let go of her.

"Cousin' Adey has been teaching me a few things. How to look after you, being one of them," Abigail stepped away from him and made sure to avoid looking down at the hard length that had been pressed against her for the last few minutes, "and she told me that you like being ridden. And after...you could ride me, if it pleases you, Johnny?"

That seemed to seal the deal. Slowly, he walked back over to the bed, slapping Adelaide on her backside before he laid down.

"I like Martha, Adey," he got himself comfy and smirked at the disheveled blonde, "if you're not careful, I might have to swap bed partners."

"I'm sure there's room for both of us," Abigail walked around to the same side as Adelaide and stood in front of her, temporarily shielding her from Johnny's eyes.

Her hands came up behind her back and tugged at the tight lacing there.

"Adelaide, would you help me?"

Their eyes met and Adelaide moved closer, her hands going to Abigail's back and 'fiddling' with her laces.

Of course, Johnny and the lads hadn't known what weapons were concealed beneath their skirts. Abigail hadn't lied when she said she was very skilled at sewing and all the men had copped a feel of her backside but hadn't bothered to properly search her.

"It's a bit stuck, sweetie," Adey pouted and gently pressed against Abigail's back, letting her know she could move away, "you're not wearing anything underneath, are you?"

"No, I didn't see the point."

"Good," Adey stood to Abigail's side and leaned in, whispering theatrically, "If you need a hand, just ask."

"I think I might need more than a hand with him," she walked slowly away from Adelaide, around the bed and made sure to keep her eyes on Johnny.

"This is going to be a night you two are never going to forget," Johnny gleefully placed his arms over his head as both ladies now stood, either side of the bed and smiling down at him.

"Oh yes," Abigail smiled down at him before looking back at Adelaide.

"Ready, cousin?"

"Ready," Adelaide nodded at Abigail and both women took a deep, brave breath.

Johnny took that moment to shut his eyes, waiting for the hands to fall on him. He opened them again when he heard a strange, clicking noise from either side of his head.

He stared down the small barrels of twin pistols and suddenly shuffled in horror and shock, but he didn't get far before one was pressed roughly against his cheek.

"Don't. Fucking. Move," Abigail told him in cold warning tones and for a moment, it seemed to still him.

"What is this-" he hissed when the barrel pressed harder against him, even when he only moved his head to look at Abigail.

"THIS, is me telling you not to move."

Without moving his head, Johnny looked between the two women. Whilst Adelaide looked nervous, there was also a cold, hard glare in her eyes that he'd never seen before.

"Adelaide, cousin...go and get something to tie dear Johnny up with," Abigail made sure the barrel did not leave Johnny's skin as Adelaide hurriedly moved away.

Johnny thought he saw his opportunity when she moved the pistol down, but instead, she trailed it along his skin until she reached his hip.

"I've already asked you twice," she raised the pistol slightly so it pointed straight at his cock, "and I would appreciate it if you did as you were told."

Johnny sneered at her.

"What the fuck do you think is going to happen? You'll walk out of here with money and my lads will just let you go?"

Despite his want to reach out and strike Adelaide as she came back over with rope, he also liked to keep his manhood intact.

So he directed all his ire at 'Martha'.

"Unfortunately, Johnny your lads are a little...tied up at the moment," Abigail smiled sweetly down at him.

How could one woman possibly-

The drinks. The food.

"You'll never get away with this, Martha. I'll fucking find you!" He growled as Adelaide began to bind his wrists to the headboard.

"You can try. But Martha Hillman is very hard to find," Abigail let out an exasperated sigh. She wondered if she could put a bag over this man's head to shut him up?

Johnny could see he wasn't going to get a rise out of her and turned to Adelaide as she finished with his hands.

"You stupid, fucking whore!" He spat at her so fiercely she actually flinched at his tone, "After everything I've done for you!"

Adelaide was quiet for a moment before the hardness returned to her eyes.

"Everything you've done for me?!" Her hand came out and gave him one hard resounding slap around his cheek, "YOU. YOU FUCKING TRIED TO RUIN ME! YOU'RE A FUCKING ANIMAL!"

Abigail could see Adelaide move to strike him again and seeing as Johnny's hands were bound, pulled her pistol away and reached a calming hand out to stop her.

"Hold it together. He is an animal, but don't let him get to you," Abigail let her go when she felt her calm and moved away from the bed.

Together, they both bound Johnny's ankles to the bedposts below and satisfied, moved closer to the door to talk.

"I need to go and get Jamie and Theo. You have to stay here and guard him so he doesn't start shouting," she lowered her voice so Johnny couldn't hear.

"What if he does?" Adelaide glanced nervously at Johnny, who had yet to think about shouting.

Abigail could only smirk.

"Gag him, stick his socks in his mouth."

"He doesn't have socks."

"Dirty underwear then."

Adelaide gave Abigail a small smile and tried to stifle a giggle.

"I'll be back. Stay strong, Adey," Abigail gave the girl one last, reassuring squeeze on her shoulder before leaving the room and heading towards the attic.

Adelaide took a breath and knowing she was in charge, walked straight back over to the bed and pointed her pistol at Johnny.

But unlike Abigail, Johnny just smirked at her.

"You think you're so smart and clever? When I find you both, I'm going to make you pay. You'll be begging me to kill you once I've finished with you. All those lads down there?" Johnny licked his lips as he watched Adelaide's reaction, her lips beginning to quiver with fright, "They've been gagging to bend you over and fuck you every night, but I stopped them! Me! And when we find you, they'll each have their fucking go."

The blood was rushing through Adelaide and she felt fiercely hot, her heart speeding up. It was almost unbearable, but Johnny was not done as he goaded her further.

"And your precious little cousin? I'm going to make her arsehole bleed when I'm finished with her," Johnny grit his teeth as he tugged at his restraints.

"Shut up, Johnny!" She pointed the pistol at him, trying to stop her hands shaking, "I mean it!"

"Or what? You'll shoot me? You don't have it in you. Weak. Pathetic little Adelaide, who can't even make a man come in under five minutes? You're useless as a whore!"

"Shut up-"

"I'll fucking kill you! Both of you!"

"SHUT UP!" She shut her eyes tight and tried not to yell, but her anger and fear that he would stay true to his word were bubbling to the surface.

All it would take was one push...

Meanwhile...

Abigail opened the door and ran straight inside the attic, her pistol out and ready. But luckily, all the men were downstairs.

The only occupants of the room were tied to a chair and one of them slowly raised their head to watch her as she approached.

"Jamie!" She ran at him and fell to her knees, dropping her pistol in favour of holding his battered face in her hands, "Oh, darling!"

Carefully, she pressed tender little kisses against the undamaged parts of his skin and smoothed back his hair.

"Come on, let's get you both out of here," Abigail made quick work of the knots around his legs and arms.

"Where's Adelaide?" Jamie groaned again when the rope dug into sore, swollen skin, but he knew she couldn't help it when she was trying to free him.

"Downstairs with Johnny. He's tied up, as are his lads. They're all out cold."

"How did you-"

"A strong drought in the wine and some in the food," Abigail came back around to help him with one last stubborn knot around his chest, "They'll be out, I just don't know how long for."

"Abigail, I-...what are you wearing?" His tone turned critical and Abigail could only shake her head as she finally undid the last knot.

"Not now! I've got to get Teddy!"

She moved away from him, suddenly going the other side to look at her brother. As with Jamie, she carefully held his face, inspecting the wounds that were older, but fiercer than her husband's.

"Oh, my poor Theo, look at you!"

Theodore's eye slowly slid open and he looked blankly at his sister.

"What are you wearing?"

Abigail sighed in frustration and began to tug at his own bindings, even as Jamie, who was now free to stand, turned to help her.

"Oh, for god sake, not now! We have to-"

Abigail quickly shut her mouth when a loud bang rang through the air. It was close. And it was the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.

"Oh god...Adey," she stood back up and looked at Jamie, "help Theo, I need to go to her!"

She reached onto the floor, picked up her discarded pistol, and quickly ran towards the door.

"Abigail, wait! I can-"

"Jamie, just help him!" Abigail could wait no more, knowing her friend was in danger, "I've got you covered!"

She didn't turn back as she made her way through the door and back along the hallway. Quietly, she listened for more noises.

None of the men had seemed to awaken.

Johnny was not shouting.

There was nothing.

She came to the door and was glad she hadn't closed it. She peeked inside and saw a sight that chilled her to the bone.

Adelaide was standing, breathing heavily as she had before. Her pistol pointed at the bed. But she looked frozen to the spot. As if she'd seen the very devil himself.

Abigail slowly walked in.

"Adey, what-" she gasped when she saw what her friend had done.

Johnny was still tied to the bed, naked as the day he was born.

But he now had a gaping wound in his chest, blood pouring out onto the sheets around him.

She looked away from the body and back to Adelaide.

She knew they had to get out. Johnny would not be mourned, but if Adelaide was caught...she would surely be taken to prison. Or even hanged for her crime.

"Adey, come away," Abigail slowly approached her and reached out, grabbing the pistol that was still pointed at Johnny, "we must go. Come on, Adey."

Adelaide was shaking all over and said nothing, but let Abigail tug the pistol from her hands and be led from the room.

Abigail's arms slipped around Adelaide as she guided her out, met by her husband who also supported Theodore with his arm around his shoulder and the other around his waist.

"We go quietly," Abigail whispered, afraid they would still not make it out of that house alive, "stick to the alleyways, the dark."

Jamie nodded and followed his wife out as they made their way through the house, ignoring his injuries and pains in favour of making sure he got Theodore down the stairs safely.

None of the men woke up, though a few seemed to stir and mutter in their sleep when they got to close.

Nobody took a breath until they were outside, but even then they did not stop. They walked out into the night.

"Now what?" Jamie called ahead to Abigail, soldiering on behind her with her brother leaning heavily against him.

Without turning around, she said only three words he would follow until she said any different.

"Now? We leave."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A week later...

Abigail and Adelaide embraced in her bedroom and clung tightly onto one another as they said their goodbyes.

In such a short space of time, Abigail had gotten to know her new friend, and the worst thing about saying goodbye was that she may not see her again.

But it was for the best.

They had left the port quickly and gotten back to the bedsit but had only stayed long enough to tend to Jamie and Theodore's physical wounds. Adelaide had been in a state of shock until Abigail had pulled her into a bathtub and helped her scrub the blood and filth that had gotten on her.

She'd sobbed most of the night and Abigail had only held her tightly, telling her it was going to be ok.

Adelaide had then explained and told her of Johnny's plans to kill them if he found them. She'd been terrified and pulled the trigger when he spoke his last words.

_'I'll rip your throats out and make you both watch as you die, slowly!'_

Abigail had only held her tighter, knowing the sacrifice Adelaide had made by taking his life.

Early next morning, they'd dressed and left in the carriage, heading straight back to Abigail and Jamie's cottage.

Once inside, Theodore and Jamie were both made to rest as the girls looked after them during the day. When night came, they wouldn't retire to bed straight away.

Abigail made her new companion sit down with her on the rug, with the dogs and tell her everything about herself. And when Adelaide had revealed all, Abigail took her turn.

She made sure to include the part about killing her former shipmates who had tried to rape and murder her and Jamie. She'd held Adelaide's hand as she said the words that Jamie had said to her.

"It's not your fault. You fought to keep yourself alive and anyone else would have done the same thing. But...you didn't just do it for yourself...you did it for us. You wanted to protect me and...I am so grateful to you for that," tears had fallen down her cheeks as did Adelaide's, "Johnny would have done what he wanted for his own amusement and shown us no mercy. The difference between you and he is regret...even if he is an evil man, you still regret doing that to him. He would not have."

They talked and cried into the night, Adelaide finally getting her smile back when both dogs eagerly pressed themselves against her and began to lick away at the tears on her cheeks.

The next day passed like the other, though Adelaide seemed to get stuck in to helping out around the house as well as looking after the boys. She seemed content, just being near Abigail and knowing she had a friend.

But they knew it couldn't last. Abigail and Jamie arranged for safe transport for them out of this place.

Whilst Johnny may not be alive and no one could trace 'Martha Hillman' if they looked, it was possible they could find Adelaide whose disappearance would surely have been noted.

She was to travel with Theodore as his companion and nurse, going as far as England. Abigail didn't hesitate to give her enough money to start a new life and made her promise to write if she ever needed more.

And so, when they were on the bed, Adelaide in one of Abigail's older dresses and her hair brushed and cleaned within an inch of her life, they found it difficult to let one another go.

"I'm going to miss you," Adelaide laughed as she tried to dry her tears, "I feel like I'm leaving a sister."

Abigail laughed with her and pulled away, wiping her own wet face.

"I know. It's amazing how short a' time two people can be together and bond over pirates and general arseholes."

Both girls laughed along with one another until Adelaide's face pained for a moment.

"I know you told me not to blame myself, but I still feel like I need to apologise. If I hadn't-"

"It's all right. I don't blame you," Abigail gave Adelaide's hands a comforting squeeze, "you did it to protect us. And now...it's our turn to protect you."

She nodded and let Abigail pull her into another hug.

"Theo will find you a good job. And soon, you'll find a wonderful man to marry and he'll worship the ground you walk on. Just remember, YOU'RE the boss."

Adelaide pulled away and bit her lip when she remembered something else important.

"I meant to ask...when you went to see Winnie earlier," Adelaide gave her friend a hopeful smile, waiting for good news, "did she...?"

"Yes," Abigail whispered and nodded, her face lighting up as she confided in her friend. Adelaide could only shriek with joy and tightly hug Abigail again.

"He doesn't know yet. I'll tell him later."

"Oh, I wish I could be here when you tell him."

"I know. But you have to get on that bloody boat. Theo will see you safe," Abigail knew the time was slipping away and they wouldn't have much time left if they kept on, "come on...let's go downstairs."

Both girls left the comfort of the room behind them but did not feel too sad by the sight that greeted them. Theo, who had bought a walking stick on the recommendation of the doctor, was laughing and giving Jamie a farewell hug. Whatever conversation they had missed had obviously been a very intimate one, as both men seemed reluctant to let one another go.

"Are we interrupting?" Abigail said as she came down the last step and smiled at them, "We could come back if-"

"Oh, shush, Gabby," Theo suddenly wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, "no teasing, you little duckling."

As Abigail and Theodore began to affectionately squabble, Adelaide quickly excused herself and went back upstairs, claiming that she'd forgotten something.

She returned again, having left her gift for Abigail on her bed, to find the two now embracing tenderly.

"Teddy...you take care of her. And yourself. Please," she squeezed her brother, though was aware of where NOT to grab him, especially with his injuries.

"I will, Gabby," he pressed a kiss to her cheek and held her back with just as much strength, "and you look after yourself. I won't get in any more trouble and you don't go parading around in skimpy-"

"Oh, Shut up, Teddy," Abigail said fondly and pulled away, "let's get you in that carriage so you can stop reprimanding me on my dresses. Or I might just lay into you again for getting into trouble with pirates."

"You can talk!" He allowed his sister to support his side as they made their way out, still bickering affectionately as they went.

Jamie and Adelaide said their own, polite goodbyes, though Jamie was a little surprised when she suddenly pressed a tender kiss against his cheek and told him how thankful she was and how lucky he was going to be.

He found that last part a little strange, but he had no time to dwell on it as they made their way onto the wagon.

Only Abigail remained on the ground, but Jamie bent over to press a quick kiss to the top of her head.

"I'll be back soon."

"Travel safe, darling," she took a step back and looked at the two occupants in the back, "and you two...behave and write to me as soon as you get to England!"

"I will, little sister," Theodore jerked a little as the wagon began to go slowly along, but didn't seem to be too uncomfortable, "and look after those dogs well! I've never had a bed companion as loving as Bartholomew."

"It's Bertie!" Abigail laughed and blew him a kiss, before looking over at Adelaide, "Write to me! I don't have any pen pals and someone needs to tell me what the new fashion in London is!"

"I will," Adelaide put her hands over her mouth, projecting her voice more before she was out of earshot, "there's a gift for you, on your bed! Write to me about how it goes!"

Abigail waved them off until they were no longer close enough to hear one another and turned back inside her house. Whilst sad, she was relieved they'd be alright. Jamie would make sure they would get to their next checkpoint.

She remembered Adelaide's parting words and made her way back upstairs and into her bedroom.

There, on her bed, clean and mended was the red dress she'd borrowed from Adelaide. At some point, she'd gotten hold of the skirt and mended all the holes, cut off all the scraggly bits and made sure to thread a new ribbon through the front.

On top of it lay a small note, scribbled in rough handwriting.

_'I noticed that it was too small for you. But your husband didn't seem to mind. You can thank me in your letter.'_

A deep blush spread over Abigail's face as she remembered the way all the men had looked at her in that dress, including her own husband.

And after all, he HAD come all that way to save her big brother.

Perhaps...he did deserve a little reward.

A few hours later...

Jamie arrived home to a welcome and unexpected surprise. The dogs were locked out in the garden and he wondered why until he'd opened the front door and saw the blanket spread over the floor in the living area. He quickly shut it before they could get inside and made his way over.

Cold chicken, sandwiches, tarts, and bowls of fruit. And all around the sides of the room, there were lit candles, so everything had an almost magical glow to it.

She'd gone all out for a special reason and as far as he could remember, it was neither's birthday.

"Darling?" He called out, loud enough to hear around the house, wherever she was.

Her voice came from above, their bedroom.

"Coming! Start without me! I'll be down in a minute!"

Jamie, seeing as he HAD just driven Adelaide and Theodore to a carriage that would take them to a safe shore point and then onto a boat, happily discarded his coat over his armchair and put his boots underneath. He sat on the floor, with his back to the stairs and poured two glasses of elderflower cordial.

He heard her come downstairs just as he took a bite of sandwich in front of him.

"How's the food?" He turned himself about at her voice.

"Perfect, I-"

He stopped short when he saw what he was wearing.

The same tight red dress she'd been in the night she'd burst into the attic and untied them. He'd remembered almost being distracted enough by the situation to miss the dress, but the deep plunge to her usually modest neckline was enough to catch his eye.

And it did it again as she stood above him.

"I never properly said thank you for coming with me to get Teddy. And staying to help Adelaide and...well," she blushed and smiled at him, "for being a wonderful husband."

Whilst she was being very sweet and affectionate, Jamie suddenly felt his mouth go very dry.

He needed to get her a little closer to him.

"Do you want to come and sit down?" He smiled slyly as he waited for her to join him, but she simply shrugged her shoulders.

"Actually, I was just going to pop to town for some supplies. Did you want me to get you anything?" Abigail put her hands behind her back, knowing it would push her chest out even more.

Jamie was silent for a moment before he saw that slight, mischievous twinkle in her eye.

He got to his feet and shook his head.

"You are NOT. Going out in THAT dress."

"Why ever not? Adelaide gave it to me as a gift," she moved her hands back around the front and smoothed down the fabric of her bodice, "I think it's my colour."

"You know perfectly well it's not the colour people will look at."

Abigail took a couple of steps closer to him, smiling innocently as she did so.

"Oh? Jamie Norrington, what else would people be looking at?" She pressed herself up against him and looked deep into his eyes, challenging him.

He just gave a long-suffering sigh and shook his head again.

"You are perhaps the most infuriating, stubborn, teasing female I've ever met," his hands came out to grab her waist and held on tightly as he looked deep into her eyes, "and I wouldn't change it for the world."

Her hands came to his shoulders and she leaned forward, rubbing the tip of her nose against his.

"That was very, very nice of you," she sighed happily, "but...I really must go to the market before it gets too late."

Jamie's grip tightened on her and he broke the distance between them, placing a tender kiss on her lips. They took their time and moved against one another as they normally did, enjoying the feel of the other's lips.

He pulled away and promised her in a warning tone, "You are to take that dress off, right now, madam. Or else."

"Oh?" She pecked his lips again and pouted, "Make me."

"Gladly," his head moved and this time, his lips latched onto the skin of her neck, suckling, and nibbling as he went lower.

"Oh, and Jamie?" She said casually as she played with his long hair.

"Mmm?" He didn't stop as his lips trailed farther down, near the deep plunge of her cleavage.

"When I went to see Winnie about my stomach bug this morning, she told me it's not a bug."

"Oh, that's good," he said, though distracted as he finally reached the swell of her breasts.

"Don't you want to know what it is?"

He groaned and stopped what he was doing, though kept his head pressed against her.

"Is it contagious?"

"No."

"Is it the fever?"

"No."

"Is it important?"

"Pretty much, yes."

He sighed and pulled his head away, giving a sorrowful look down the front of her dress.

"My love," he looked into her eyes but she could see his slight displeasure, "dearest, darling...are you all right?"

She couldn't stop her little chuckle, though managed to restrain herself from outright laughing. Especially when she had to tell him something so important.

"Yes, my darling, sweetie husband...I'm fine. I'm just...with child."

Jamie blinked at her a couple of times before his expression became startled.

"Pardon?!" He asked her in a strangled voice.

"Child," she moved her hands up to his cheeks and said in a gentler voice, "we're having a child, Jamie."

Jamie blustered for a moment before pulling away, looking down at her stomach. She could see his disbelief and shock and she took no offense to it, knowing he was just caught off guard by her sudden confession.

He knelt down in front of her, but quickly got back up again and instead chose to pace back and forth.

He was so unsure of what to do with himself, his mind racing.

"Jamie," she laughed softly, not being able to help herself as her happiness began to take over, "Jamie, calm down."

He moved to her and grabbed her suddenly, holding her tightly against him.

"I love you, but if you're teasing me-"

She shook her head and pulled back far enough to smile at him.

"James Norrington...you're going to be a father."

The moment passing over his face was something she'd remember forever. The shock and surprise, gone. She saw the dawning realisation and his eyes light up.

She squeaked in surprise as he suddenly knelt again on the floor in front of her and not letting go, brought her down with him. Her fall was cushioned by his own body and she held him tightly as he buried his face into her neck.

She wondered why he was hiding from her, unmoving, until she felt the hot, wet tears on her skin.

"Oh...Oh my love," she laughed again as her own tears fell, "don't cry."

With his arms firmly around her, she had to prise him away from her neck, but when she saw his face wet with tears and he looked...overcome with joy.

"Oh," she smiled and wiped the tears from his face, "Oh, I'm sorry I made you cry."

"I just...God," he laughed and tried to get his words out, but struggled to let her know what he was feeling, "I never thought...I died. I did awful things and I died and you brought me back and," he gasped when he spoke again and looked so happy, it made her want to sob, "now I'm going to be a father."

His hands moved up to either side of her face and pushed her hair back so he could look at her.

"I meant what I said earlier. I wouldn't change you. Anything about you. You're perfect for me and to me. And I've never been so thankful you came into my life. My wonderful Abigail...the woman who is carrying my child."

"Oh, you romantic git," her hands came back to hurriedly wipe her own tears away, "don't start me off. We'll be here all night."

"I don't care. We're having a child!" He suddenly laughed and pressed his lips against hers, unable to think of anything else.

They held one another. The food was forgotten. As was his urge to undress her straight away. For now, they just held onto one another and cried.

He'd never been happier and neither had she.

They're both going to be parents.


	23. Ropes

Ropes

"Quinces?"

"Fourteen."

"Apples."

"Hmmm...Twenty. I'll make some crumble from some."

"Apricots."

"Oh, yes!" Abigail turned to Jamie with a big smile, "Winnie said those are good during the early stages of pregnancy! Urm...thirty!"

"Thirty?!" Jamie looked shocked at the amount, but she merely shook her head.

"You have to eat them also. I can even make jam for your crumpets," she offered as a last little temptation and he seemed to show great and sudden interest.

"Alright, thirty it is," he leant in closer to her and whispered, "can we get some fresh cream?"

Abigail couldn't help but roll her eyes, amused at her husband's small little request. Sometimes, he could drastically sound like a small child when he asked her questions like that. She didn't mind, she just thought it was adorable. She never told him though, because she knew he'd react with stubborn denial.

"Of course, maybe even some strawberries since the weather is so good," Abigail turned back around and swapped with the trader, her coins for their precious bounty and goods.

Most of the morning went on as normal, quiet, playful banter and bickering when they disagreed on something. Abigail would usually come out the victor, but she let Jamie win one fight. He was only pouting because she made him carry the basket once she decreed it too heavy with his newly added potatoes.

They came to the seller of fishing equipment and whilst Jamie did not know the man, it seemed Abigail did.

"Hello Isaiah," Abigail picked up a metre of netting and held it up in front of her, "did my order arrive?"

The tall, slim male who hailed from Seychelles, stood straight and smiled sweetly.

"It came in Monday, Mrs Norrington," he spoke with a thick accent, but his English was impeccable, "five metres, braided and thick."

Jamie was only half-listening, his eye caught on some of the hooks and rods the man had to offer, but he paid attention when Abigail was suddenly in front of him, holding a thick coil of rope in her hands.

"Thank you, Isaiah, are you sure-"

"You've already paid, Mrs Norrington. And my wife was very happy with the extra also. Now go home and make some more of those delicious cakes and I'll happily buy them from you next time," he laughed jovially and continued on with his work behind the stall.

"Not a chance. You get a batch for your little ones and I'll not take a penny," Abigail began to walk off, obviously not willing to stay and argue, "have a good trade, Isaiah!"

Jamie followed after his wife, listening to the man's happy laughter as she walked off. But he was concentrating on something very important.

Finally, he caught up with her, clutching the basket in his hand as he walked by her side.

"Why do you need rope?"

Abigail looked perfectly normal when she answered him as if it was the most common thing in the world.

"I mean, it's just a bit. I've got more at home, but this stuff is stronger."

"Oh."

Jamie walked a couple of more paces until he thought about that answer.

"Why do you have so much rope?!"

"Well...I had to tie you down last time with ribbon and rope for the curtains...but this stuff," she held up the rope for his speculation, "is stronger. So encase I need to tie you down again, it'll come in pretty handy."

She stopped for a moment as a cart passed and looked into her husband's face. She saw something flare in his eyes and he moved to say something, but she gave him 'the look'.

"Stop it. I know what you're thinking."

On they walked through the market, the silence more on Jamie's side as he seemed to dwell on his thoughts. It was by the quiet lull of the closing stalls that he cornered her, his front pressed against her back, his breath ghosting over her skin.

"About that rope," he whispered into her ear and she shuddered at his tone.

"Jamie...don't you dare. Not now."

"No one can hear us, Love."

She felt his fingers brush against her neck and whilst it may have appeared completely innocent to any onlookers, they both knew what that simple touch did to her.

"I've been thinking about that rope. And I'm sure, we could both practise our knots later."

Abigail whimpered when his hand moved down, over her clothed back and slowly making shapes and circles as he continued.

"Not just that...think of the wonderful twists and bows you could do," his lips brushed over her earlobe as he moved closer, "you can tie me to the armchair again if you like?"

Abigail groaned, knowing that this was another battle Jamie had won. She turned around and despite the shopping in their arms, pulled him close and kissed him fiercely, not caring about the public eyes.

Before it could become too heated, Abigail managed to find the willpower to pull away, though she did have a very red face.

"Sometimes, I hate the way you tease," she pouted but refused to let him go, wanting nothing more than to kiss him senseless.

"But you do love me. As I, you," his lips brushed over her ear again, though he waited for her to allow him to carry on.

"Mmm...let's go home," she pulled back and gestured with a nod of her head towards the road out and home.

"The rest of the Shopping?"

"We have food at home. And I only came out to stretch my legs, really," she took a step away from him and waited for him to join her, but he had that sneaky grin on his face.

"Mmm, but there might be a few things I want here."

"Alright. You stay, finish up. I'll meet you at home," she lowered her voice and smiled sweetly at him, "and for every minute you're not home, I take off an item of clothing. And then I'll go upstairs and start without you."

She turned and walked away from him, slowly muttering under her breath, "One, two, three, four-"

"You know, there are more important things at home that need my attention," he placed his hand on her back and guided her on the road.

"Such as?" She asked innocently, but purposefully let her free hand fall and brush against his thigh.

He growled and seemed to move faster and his words made Abigail a little giddy with excitement.

"You tied to the bed for a start."


	24. Corsets

Corsets

Abigail had thought she'd gotten quite a good haul from her trip to town that day. Unloading the basket of goods into the kitchen first, she then made her way upstairs and into her bedroom.

"Jamie?" She looked around, surprised he was not there and not home yet. She'd probably just beaten him, but no matter.

Taking out the small bundle she'd gotten from one of the sellers, she pulled out and unravelled the ball of clothes that had been hastily shoved into her arms.

She pulled out two skirts first, then a pretty, simple dress that only had one tear in the torso and finally...a strange, heavy item that plopped right down onto the bed from within.

Scooping it up, she carefully pulled it apart with her hands and found an old, but still intact corset.

"I thought it was a bit heavy...oh well," she held the garment out in front of her and inspected it. Clean, no tears or holes and with an original ribbon.

Curiosity and vague memory compelled her to give it a try. After all, she had a new dress and she wouldn't be able to fit into it soon, not for another eight months at least.

She undressed down to her bloomers and slipped the material over her head. All those times she'd had her nanny help her into on replayed in her mind, but she didn't realise it would be so difficult until she tried to lace them up herself.

The tricky part was, of course, pulling and trying to tie it before it slipped loose again. She was beginning to get frustrated when she heard footsteps approach and looked over her shoulder to see her husband appearing in the doorway.

"Darling, what-"

"Oh, thank God!" She sighed in relief, though it was slightly hampered by the restrictive garment, "Would you give me a hand? I always hated doing these up."

She moved her hands back around to the front and tugged the corset a little higher over her breasts.

Jamie didn't hesitate, but he was feeling slightly surprised to see his wife in such a contraption. His previous experience (on seeing Elizabeth faint and almost drown) taught him that corsets weren't the most desirable items of fashion.

Still, as he took the laces in either hand, he supposed he could oblige, especially since it was already giving her a wonderful shape from the back.

"Why have I never seen this on you before?"

"Accidentally got it today with the dress," she gestured to the item she'd laid at the end of the bed, "thought I'd at least give it a try before I got too fat-huh!"

Jamie stilled when she gasped suddenly and moved his hand over her waist.

"Did I hurt you?" He leant in close to her ear, suddenly aware of her lack of clothing.

"No, no, just," she let out a breathy laugh, "you took my breath away for a moment."

Jamie laughed and placed a kiss on her bare shoulder.

"Well, now you know how I feel whenever I look at you."

"Are you being romantic to get something or just for the hell of it?" She turned her head slightly, but considering he was still kissing her shoulder, she could not see his face.

"Both," his hands moved over her waist and to her back again, "do you want me to continue?"

"Mmm," Abigail shut her eyes, waiting for his kisses to move over her again. But instead, he pulled away, his touch vanishing.

"I thought," she suddenly felt herself being laced up again and realised he'd been talking about THAT, "Oh."

Despite facing away from him, she knew he was smiling. She could _feel_ the amusement rolling off of him, but she said nothing, just let him continue as he laced her.

After a few minutes, in which her breasts were wedged almost under her chin and her waist was synched at least an inch thinner, he finally stopped the gentle tugging and proceeded to make a bow.

"All done," he took a step away to admire his handiwork and watched as she slowly turned to face him.

For a moment, it happened. The sight of her took his breath away and made his heart skip a beat.

Her hands came up over the fabric and her new curves and she smoothed her hands over every little bump and smooth line she felt.

"Well then, this is surprisingly comfy," as her hands came up under her breasts, she didn't notice her husband's hungry look, "and you didn't do it too tight like my old nanny used to."

With her head still down as she looked over the top of her breasts, Jamie moved forward and placed his hands over her wrists, stilling her movements.

She looked up at him, seeing his slightly amused yet exasperated expression.

"Sometimes, I think you subconsciously know how to tease me."

"Oh? Oh," she realised what she must have been doing to him by touching herself the way she had and suddenly had a cheeky idea, "sorry, did I distract you?"

"You," he stepped forward and groaned, his arms slipping around her waist, "you wicked temptress."

Abigail returned the embrace and pressed her lips close to his ear.

"Only for you, Commodore."

He groaned again and his head disappeared as he leant it against her shoulder. His hands wandered down and cupped her backside through her bloomers.

"Well, I _had_ been planning to take you down for a picnic outside since you'd worked so hard, but now I'm afraid that's just not possible."

She giggled as he rubbed his beard against her neck, his teeth coming out to gently nip at her skin.

"Surely, we can go down for a little nibble?"

He mumbled as his lips moved around the front, sucking at her collarbone, "I'm perfectly content with staying up here for a nibble."

Abigail couldn't help but laugh as he began to walk her backwards, towards the bed. Her hands threaded and moved about his hair, holding him close to her.

"Darling, there IS a little problem though."

"Oh?" His hands squeezed her backside again as his lips came to the top of her breasts.

"I can't really do much with this on. AND, you'll have to get me out of it since it's on over my bloomers."

Jamie paused and moved back slowly. Sure enough, the top of her waistband was tucked just at the bottom of her corset.

Tricky. And yet...not impossible.

He got down on one knee in front of her, his hands moving over her hips as he gripped the fabric.

He looked into her eyes and she saw the cheeky glint.

"Or," he tugged so suddenly at her bloomers that she jumped, especially since he successfully tugged them free and down to her ankles without damaging them. The cold air on her skin was definitely a shock.

"Jamie!" She squeaked, but he merely smiled innocently at her.

"It worked, didn't it?" He stood up, his hands moving back over her naked backside. When he stood to his full height, he looked back down into her eyes.

"Jamie, that was very sneaky...but well done," she conceded and took the moment to kick off her bloomers.

He leant closer to her, intending to plant a gentle, tender kiss on her lips, but she turned her head so he ended up kissing her cheek instead.

"Nope, you still have to get me out of the corset."

"Or-" he tried again, but she was quicker, getting a kiss on her chin instead.

"Nope, don't you dare."

"Wench!" He growled and suddenly picked her up. Her legs automatically wrapped around him and she squealed as he dove forward, trying to get her lips. Since he was losing this battle, he began biting her, a little harder to teach her a lesson.

"Jamie Norrington! Anytime I try something new, you always end up misbehaving."

"Nonsense," his mouth moved down to her breasts again and he rubbed his beard over one side, "I'm perfectly well behaved."

"Oh, really? First, the stockings and now a corset. I think you can be a perfect gentleman as long as I hide more skin."

Jamie let out a noise and his hands tightened on her as he asked, "Have you still got those stockings somewhere?"

"Are you even listening anymore?" She gave his hair a playful tug but he just nodded and moved his lips over her jawline.

"Yes, darling."

Slowly, he lowered her down against the bed and moved atop her. He pulled back and...absorbed her image.

Her arms now above her head, her breasts spilling over the top of her corset and the innocent look on her face as she watched him look at her.

"What?"

"Oh," he moaned and laid himself back over her body, "I'm so lucky. Have I told you what a lucky bastard I am?"

"Jamie! Using language like that," she laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, "I should wash your mouth out with soap."

He felt her hook her leg over the back of his thigh, urging him to get closer, but he managed to restrain himself long enough to tease her.

"Well, I can think of better uses for my mouth."

"Oh, you-" she cut herself off by pulling herself up towards him and planting a long, fierce and hungry kiss against his lips. And as his tongue rolled against hers, he thought about her and only her.

His beautiful, wonderful wife. And he is lucky. The luckiest man in the world for falling in love with her.

He pressed her down against the mattress and would have deepened the kiss, had she not suddenly pushed him back with a look of great discomfort.

"Darling...would you do me a favour?"

"Anything."

She wiggled beneath him and pushed him up a little more.

"Could you actually shift a little? It's a little hard to breathe," she said breathlessly, the corset now restricting her airway slightly.

"Oh, I-"

"Actually," her arms moved about as if trying to get herself comfortable, "you might need to get me out of this quickly. I think my breasts are suffocating me."

He would have laughed at her statement, but he could see her actually struggling against the corset. He promised himself he'd laugh later when she was safe and able to breathe for herself.

He turned her over and quickly unlaced her again, though he made sure it was all undone and when the corset was off of her, discarded it quickly over the side of the bed.

"That's something I don't miss about corsets," she sighed in relief, her front still pressed to the mattress below as she got her breathing back to normal.

Jamie moved again, this time laying by her side and leaning over her to press small, light kisses against her naked back.

"You do look very nice in it."

"Thank you."

"I still prefer you in nothing at all."

"You would. You scoundrel."

Jamie pulled back and with her head now turned to him, he saw the playful glimmer in her eyes.

"I BEG your pardon?"

"You heard me-Ow!"

The noise of Jamie's hand landing a firm slap on her backside echoed around the room. She tried to turn herself over, but he held her down and ran his hand over the slightly stinging flesh of her bottom.

"First, you tease me. THEN you stop me kissing you. And now you call me a scoundrel," he leaned in closer to her, his voice dark and full of promise, "I should put you across my knee."

Abigail could only smile sweetly at him.

"Promises, promises. But are you a man of your word?"

Jamie took a deep breath before his head fell forward, so he could rub the tip of his nose against hers.

"God...I love you."

"I love you, too," she wiggled slightly, trying to get to him and stop him holding her down, "but if you don't hurry up, I'll start without you."

"No, just...just for a minute," he allowed her to move, but wrapped his arm around her so he could pull her back against his front, "I just want to hold you."

"Oh, my sweet Jamie," she wrapped her arm over his where it came to rest, his hand protectively covering her growing stomach.

"My darling. Clothed in rags or silk or just your skin," he nuzzled his face against the back of her neck, inhaling the scent of her hair as it wafted to his nose, "I'll have you. All of you."

"I love you."

"I love you," Jamie's lips came to her shoulder and whilst he felt he could rest against her forever, he also wanted to be with her. Inside of her. With her, always.

They did eventually make love. But not until both were satisfied just laying in one another's arms.


	25. What's in a name?

What's in a name?

As Jamie pulled on the reins of his horse, he was glad that old Eustace came with him easily, especially since the slippery, wet soil, and the brash, blowing winds were not making it easy on him.

"That's a boy, come on!" He called out to the horse and where his hand lay on its back, he gave a quick, reassuring pat. The horse merely carried on walking, though he could feel how tense and stressed the creature was. And who could blame him?

They had warned a storm would come and now it was here, it was one of the worst storms he'd ever experienced.

The ground beneath him moved if he put his foot in the wrong place, the mud sinking down and making it tricky to walk forward. The rain and wind thrashing at his face made it tricky to see sometimes.

Still, there was a couple of bright sides to his situation. He was not at sea and for that, he was doubly thankful, but he was more so worried about Abigail and the dogs, alone in the house and waiting for his return. He hoped that the basement would-

"Ah, you little bugger, in with you!"

He turned when he heard a voice call over the wind and found his wife crouched over a sheep, holding it by the scruff of its neck and trying to direct it towards the barn.

_'Of bloody course.'_

Jamie felt his frustration rise.

"GET BACK INSIDE, THE STORM IS TOO BAD FOR YOU!" He yelled above the storm, holding onto the horse as it began to trot about nervously, obviously not liking his tone OR the storm.

Abigail, having heard him, continued onwards with the sheep, gently pulling it along as she walked awkwardly by its side.

"And leave you out here?! THE QUICKER THIS IS DONE, THE QUICKER WE CAN BOTH GET INSIDE."

In normal circumstances, he wouldn't have minded. But even as she moved quickly, not caring as the wind and rain battered at her hair and dress, he could see the swell of her stomach as her dress clung to her and despite only being five months, she was already quite a considerable size.

Still, with the look in her eyes, he knew there was no point in standing there and arguing. Especially not in the rain.

Of course, she was still the most stubborn, frustrating woman he knew.

Both (begrudgingly) working together managed to get the sheep, his horse, and the one that attempted to run out past them in its panic, all in the barn. They shut the doors against the strong winds and bolted them down for the creatures' own safety.

"Alright!" Jamie moved in closer to her, grabbing her hand and keeping to her side, "Back inside!"

"Couldn't agree more!" Abigail moved along with him, trying to lift her skirts up and free her legs as she walked.

They were both walking with such haste that Jamie thought they'd get back to their house relatively unscathed. Unfortunately, just as he thought that Abigail slipped at his side and it was only Jamie falling to his knee and catching her that stopped her completely going down into the muddy bed.

They both grunted as they attempted to stand straight, but Jamie finally managed to get his footing and stood up, hoisting Abigail with him. But instead of pulling her back along, he brought his arm around her waist and bent low.

"Hold on!"

Abigail grabbed his neck as he swept her feet out and off the ground, his arm under her knees.

"Don't do your back in!" Abigail squeaked when he slipped as he walked on, but he only shook his head and carried on trudging through the mud.

"I'm not old yet!"

He carried her, all the way to the back door and finally placed her down on the doorstep. They both clambered inside the kitchen, sodden and watching as they left quick, small puddles on the floor.

"Quick, out of your clothes," Jamie hastily removed boots and his own clothes, leaving them in the corner of the room rather than wetting the table or chairs.

When he saw Abigail still standing and looking at him, he cocked his brow at her amused expression.

"Aren't you eager?"

He quickly realised the little remark could be taken the wrong way, but merely huffed as he laughed, "out. Now. I'll go and get your clothes."

Despite now only being in his underwear, he ran boldly through the house and upstairs, trying to warm himself up as he went.

He gathered what warm, comfortable clothes of his and Abigail's he could and then, detouring quickly in the bathroom to gather a towel, went back downstairs.

He came down to find his wife still struggling out of her wet dress, the fabric clinging to her as she attempted to pull her arm out of her sleeve. Rather than watching her struggle, he went over and helped her, feeling how chilled she was.

"You're freezing," he quickly wrapped a towel around her and dried her bare shoulders and back, "I told you to stay inside."

"Jamie, I'm fine, stop fretting," she finally disentangled herself from her dress and skirts until she was only in her undergarments, "pass us those dry clothes and I'll be warm soon."

Before he did that, he ensured she was wrapped up and dry, even toweling the end of her hair for her. When she finally dressed in loose, warm nightclothes, they tidied the kitchen, dumping the clothes in a basket by the door.

They then made their way down into the quiet cellar, where both Bertie and Jules were snuggled up on one of the bundles that Jamie had brought down for them.

He'd prepared everything to ensure they had comfort whilst they waited out the storm. The spare mattress from the guest bedroom to sleep on, various blankets and pillows, and the small picnic basket, filled to the brim with various food and drink (including extra for the dogs).

He'd also taken into consideration the chamber pot, though Abigail was adamant that if she needed to go, she was headed upstairs with or without his consent.

_'It was very thoughtful of you, but there are no windows here and if I'm to start being sick again, I have a feeling we're going to need to be emptying it quite a bit.'_

As they settled down in the cellar, they listened to the sound outside. The wind rushing and making the house creak. The rain coming down hard on the roof. Even the dogs seemed to be listening.

"I cannot believe you came out after me," Jamie shook his head in dismay.

"I can't believe you thought I'd leave you out there to do all the work. Do you really think they'll be a hurricane?"

"Possibly. Better to stay down here than wait up there to find out."

"Well, at least we'll have something to occupy our minds," as Abigail laid on her side on the mattress with Jamie seated beside her, her hand came over her stomach and drew small little patterns on her bump, "I've only just realised we haven't discussed names yet."

Jamie turned and waited, wondering what genius names she could come up with.

"How about...Edmund for a boy and Susanna for a girl?"

"No, I knew a boy at school called Edmund. Horrible bully. Made me eat chalk."

Abigail bit her lip, trying to hide her smile.

"What a horror. Susanna?"

"Hmmm...too modern. People might short it to Susan. Or Susie. Or worse...Suz."

"You old grump," she smirked at him, "what names do you like then?"

"Hmm...James II?"

"No."

"Abigail the little?"

"Jamie, be serious," she still laughed at his suggestion, even if it was a little ridiculous.

"All right...Emily? Anne? Mary?"

Abigail thought about each one, not really keen on any for their child.

"Nope."

Jamir decided to test the waters and said as casually as he could, "Elizabeth is a pretty name."

He looked down at the cold glare his wife was giving him, instantly regretting putting his foot in it.

"William is a nice upstanding name. Or perhaps even JACK."

"...All right."

Jamie decided to steer clear of names from their joint pasts and thought about it some more. If she had said Hector, he may have to go and stand outside in the storm in his underwear to calm himself down.

But then...not all names from their past were bad. There WAS a time when...he knew the perfect names for them.

"Lawrence and...Evangeline."

Abigail pushed herself up slightly and smiled.

"Jamie, those are lovely names! Lawrence was your father, right? But, I thought-"

"I-it's not that," he shook his head, dispersing with the dream that was playing out again for him, "he was called Lawrence but...I remember these names from a dream."

"A dream? Tell me?" She cocked her head to the side and said sweetly, "Please?"

So he did. From that day they had laid together on the Pearl when she had awoken him from his nightmare. And how he had returned to sleep and dreamt of their life together. Without the pearl. As a family.

"You saw them?" Abigail sat herself up properly, marveling at Jamie, though he shook his head.

"It was just a dream, Love," he smiled at the faraway look in her eye and watched her trace lazy patterns over her bump.

"True, but Winnie said that dreams are VERY important sometimes. Even give us glimpses into what may come."

"Really?" He arched his brow, not quite believing what he was hearing, "Because the other night, I dreamt I was outrunning a giant Julie and Bartholomew and then, fell into a puddle of custard."

Abigail thought about this for a moment, tapping her stomach idly as she did so.

"Hmm, that's your subconscious telling you to stop eating so much or the dogs will outrun you soon."

Jamie squinted at her but saw the flicker of amusement pass over her face before she could hide it. He shook his head and pouted.

"Oh, a load of rubbish!"

They both laughed, though Abigail reached her hand out to pat his arm and looked into his eyes.

"Would you tell me more? About them?"

He saw the wistful, hopeful look in her eyes and found that despite his reluctance and disbelief that his past dream had been nothing more than that, he found...he wanted to talk about them. To remember what he saw.

As the storm grew and raged outside, Abigail listened aptly to Jamie's description of the children he had glimpsed. Their children.

She took in every detail and imagined a daughter and son with twin light brown hair and hazel and green eyes. Running around after one another, laughing and screaming in delight. Telling tales, hearing stories, and keeping their secrets.

And maybe, just maybe...there would be more. After all, it was only a glimpse. What more wonderful gifts would the future bring?


	26. Lawrence

Lawrence

"Honey with ya' tea, hen?" Winnie lifted up her honey jar and dangled it in front of Abigail, trying to tempt her into having a spoonful. But Abigail just shook her head and grimaced.

"No, still can't stomach all the sweet stuff right now. I may have put myself off with all that fruit."

"I told you to eat only one a day!" Winnie scolded her and rolled her eyes as she put down the jar and set about putting the teapot and snacks on the table.

"And I DID," Abigail put her foot down, though then mumbled quietly, "you just didn't say how many varieties I was allowed."

"Well, lesson learned," Winnie still heard it and put herself in the chair opposite, "now, down to business. How do you feel today?"

Abigail's weekly check-up with Winnie was always something she looked forward to. Jamie had wanted her to be attended to by the local doctor, but she confidently told him that Winnie would not only be the one examining her during her pregnancy but would be the one who would help her with the birth.

He'd been a bit unsure, so to placate him, Abigail HAD attended a few appointments with the doctor. He'd merely told her the exact same thing as Winnie, though he never offered her tea and a chat when he did so. THAT had been the winning point in Abigail's argument and Jamie had conceded that he would be glad to have Winnie when the time came.

She recounted to her friend her weekly updates, not just on the growing bump and babe inside of her, but hers and Jamie's also. What they ate, how they slept, and what work they did around the house. As soon as Winnie had told Abigail that she must rest, Jamie had forbidden her lengthy walks or heavy lifting around the house. She hadn't complained, especially when he did the laundry.

"Right, want me to give your stomach a prod?" Winnie placed down her now empty mug, rolling up her sleeves before Abigail had even agreed.

"Might as well, though not much has changed," Abigail turned about in her chair so she was facing outwards, her skirts gathering in her hand as she pulled them up, "unless you count a new stretchmark."

Moving around to her side of the table, Winnie's hands were smooth but firm as she moved over Abigail's stomach. She gently prodded at her, feeling where the babe lay and seemed pleased with the general positioning.

Winnie pushed down a few times around Abigail's bump and frowned.

"Hen, are you sure you got your dates right?"

"Winnie, you asked me this last week and YES, I'm sure," Abigail had in fact written down the exact calendar dates and gone over them a few times to be sure, "eight months and one week."

"Well...you did SAY you had some spottings in your undergarments, that they were just light that November?"

"True," Abigail thought about it, trying to remember the details of her pregnancy notebook, "though I had no other symptoms that month."

Winnie sighed and finished her examination.

"If you say so, Hen. And if you're SURE then you've got a big babe growing in you."

Abigail HAD been sure of it. As soon as Winnie had helped confirm her pregnancy, she'd written down all details and symptoms.

Still...it did slightly irk and worry her. But then, the only thing she could do was wait and see...maybe she'd been off by a week or two?

A few nights later...

Abigail did not jolt upright in bed, her heavy frame preventing her from doing so, but she did open her eyes suddenly and take deep, shuddering breaths.

The dreams of pirates entering and pillaging their home had haunted her for a while, but they were becoming less frequent than before.

Still, her mind was now calmer once she knew it was only a dream. But when she shut her eyes to return to sleep, she realised she had the sudden urge to go to the bathroom. Basic human bodily functions and all.

She clambered carefully, inelegantly out from beside her husband, and waddled herself away. She was grateful in some places her husband was a heavy sleeper but hoped he would learn to awaken when their child came. He had promised to take some fatherly duty in attending to the babe at night, but only when it didn't want to be fed, merely comforted.

After finishing up in the bathroom, Abigail returned herself to the bedroom and their bed and slowly tucked herself back in. She lay on her side, her hand covering her stomach as she felt the baby do somersaults inside of her. It felt...strange but calming. She fell into a light, calm sleep, with no nightmares of pirates.

Sadly, her sleep was not to last. A few hours later, she was awakened by a sharp pain in her stomach, one that had been growing as she slept. It didn't last for more than a few heartbeats, but it was enough to wake her and make her sit up in bed.

Once it subsided, she rubbed her stomach and took a moment to wonder what it was. Winnie HAD warned her that she may experience pains and cramps like this the closer she got to the birth date and so, she merely put it down to sleeping in such an uncomfortable position for so long.

Feeling that sleep had been stolen from her, yet again, she made her way through the house and downstairs, headed towards the kitchen.

_'Maybe some hot milk will help,'_ she thought to herself and began to idly potter about. The moon shone in from the window before her, giving off enough light that she didn't need a candle to light the stove, nor find the milk.

She placed the bottle on the table in front of her and moved to get the pan when the pain struck again. She hissed and clutched at her stomach, doubling over as the pain went through her. And again, like before, it lasted on a few moments before passing.

When it faded, she realised what this was. This was not cramps or anything Winnie had warned her about. The babe was coming. It was time.

"Oh, you little beggar," Abigail laughed quietly as she held her stomach, "you just had to go and prove her right, didn't you?!"

Slowly, she made her way back upstairs, taking her time as she went so the pain wouldn't catch her off guard again.

She slipped back inside her bedroom, sat down on the edge of the bed, and turned herself about so she could look down at her husband.

She took deep breaths as she reached over and gently laid her hand on his cheek.

"Jamie," she called to him as she stroked his cheek, "Jamie, Love. You need to wake up."

Jamie stirred and still half asleep, pushed himself up, and groaned.

"What is it?" He yawned and tried to focus on her face, "Is it the baby again?"

"Yes, Jamie. Darling...it's time," Abigail smiled at him and waited for his reaction.

"Time for what?"

"The babe's time."

He blinked at her a couple of times, sleep still fogging his mind until he looked down at where she held her stomach and realisation dawned on him.

He was fully awake when the comprehension set in.

"It is?!" He pushed himself all the way up, his hands moving over her stomach as if suddenly expecting the babe to signal it was coming.

Abigail could only nod and smile at him, despite her nerves. Jamie didn't seem to know what to do at first. He was torn between moving off of the bed and giving Abigail space, to holding onto her face or her stomach and marveling. He babbled as he moved about, going back and forth as he fetched his clothes.

"What do I-"

"Ok, first get dressed calmly," Abigail instructed as she watched him attempt to put his boots on before his trousers, whilst grabbing his shirt from the dresser at the same time, "and then I want you to go and take a calm walk down to Winnie's. Let her know the waters are broken and the pain is only every ten minutes-"

"Ten minutes?!" Jamie turned panicked eyes on her as he pulled up his trousers, "That's too soon, isn't it?!"

Abigail pushed herself up and walked over to him. She laid calming hands over his arms before helping him with his shirt.

"Not too soon. It's when they become five minutes or less-Ah!" Abigail clutched at her stomach as she cried out, another pain soaring through her body.

Jamie held onto her and waited with her as she took deep breaths. When the pain had gone and she stood straight again, he shook his head.

"Darling, I can't leave you."

"Jamie, you have to. We can't do this alone and the doctor is too far. Go and get Winnie, I'll not leave the house...I wouldn't get too far if I did."

He saw her point and whilst he was still reluctant, he finished putting on his clothes and pulled her into a warm embrace.

Their babe was coming. She needed him to go.

He kissed her on the forehead and promised to return as soon as possible. He hadn't even left the house before he started to run like the hounds of hell were on the back of his very feet.

An hour or so later...

Jamie was a jittery mess, to say the least. He couldn't quite keep still and the pace Winnie was walking at was KILLING him. Did the woman have no sense of urgency?!

When he sped up, he had to stop so she could catch up and when he tried to walk at her pace, he found himself wanting to pick her up and carry her there. But she'd already warned him that if he did that, she'd smack him with her cane, and then Abigail wouldn't get any help if Winnie had to carry him home.

He'd awoken Winnie with insistent hammering on her door, only stopping when she screeched she'd put a curse on him. He'd then hurriedly explained all Abigail had told him and Winnie, seeing his distress and state of clothing (he had only half-buttoned his shirt) decided NOT to put a curse on him and instead invited him in to wait as she readied herself.

Jamie had paced back and forth by the door, hesitating to come in when he saw the...interesting items strewn about the place. The lotions, potions, bottles, and vials...the strange herbs and dead animals hanging from the rafters.

Winnie had not taken long in getting herself and her small bag ready, slowly waving Jamie out when he made to take her arm and escort her. She closed her door and walked behind him, asking questions that Jamie wasn't quite sure how to answer.

"When did they begin?"

"Not sure, over an hour ago. She woke me up to tell me-"

"Any bleeding?"

"Uh, no, I don't believe so."

"Any backache?"

"She did complain earlier that evening, but nothing too bad. I gave her a backrub and that helped."

"Oh, what a good man you are," Winnie reached over and pinched his cheek fondly, "and it's always good to see first-time fathers so nervous. Means they care a great deal."

She'd talked with Jamie about her past experiences and the couples and women she had attended to and somehow, that had sped up the walk for both of them, Jamie listening and hearing about other men who had just been as worried and nervous and excited as he was feeling right now.

They made it back to the house and Jamie let her in first as he followed. He was surprised when he walked in to find his wife, in the living room and pacing back and forth.

"Why are you down here?" He walked straight to her and placed his hand on her lower back as she continued to walk.

"Walking helps and I got sick of the sight of the bedroom. I'll probably be seeing a lot of it for a few hours, so I thought I would come down here."

"How did you-"

"I told you. Every ten minutes," she took a deep breath and smiled at him, "I went careful and-AH!" She clutched at her stomach again and stopped walking, waiting for the pain to pass.

"Ok...more like seven minutes now."

Jamie was shoved politely aside as Winnie came over. She asked Abigail all the questions she had asked him, and then some more as she carefully moved her hands over the bump.

"Well...you're ready to pop," Winnie smiled knowingly at Abigail and she could only roll her eyes.

"I know, I know. I miscalculated. Come on, I best get back upstairs?"

"Yes, and you will be there for a while."

Abigail was made to walk in the middle of Winnie and Jamie as they made their way slowly up the stairs, Jamie's hand never leaving her back as Winnie talked with her.

When she was back in the bedroom and seated on the bed, Jamie held onto her hand and knelt in front of her.

"It's alright, Love," his other hand came to her cheek and tried to soothe her as he saw her struggling to make her way through an approaching contraction.

"Do you want to go and get Winnie some tea, darling?" She looked at Winnie and grimaced, "I'm sorry I didn't offer you any."

"Is now really the time?"

She looked back at her husband and nodded.

"Jamie, you know this may take hours? I could very well be here until gone dawn."

"If you're sure?"

"Jamie-AH," she clutched at her stomach but didn't wait for the pain to pass as she continued, "Oh...oh, go downstairs so I can swear for a bit."

Jamie couldn't help but chuckle softly.

"I've heard you swear before."

"Yes, but with what I'm about to say, your delicate sensibilities might be offended," she groaned as she laughed with him, the grip on her hand tightening around his slightly.

He lifted her hand up and pressed a gentle kiss against her knuckles.

"Alright," he let her go and stood back up, "I'll be right back. Do you need anything?"

"For it to be morning already?" He saw the cheeky twinkle in her eye as she requested that and he could only nod.

He pottered about downstairs, trying to calm himself as he made Winnie a cup of tea. He heard his wife shout out a loud curse once and she HAD been right...his delicate sensibilities were slightly offended. But she was in pain, so he could get over it.

When he came up with a saucer and cup in his hand, he was surprised to find his wife kneeling on the bed, facing the wall and her hands and head pressed against it. He had apparently just interrupted Winnie inspecting his wife as her hands came out from in between her legs and tidied her gown back into place.

"She's not quite ready yet. Soon though," Winnie stood back up and took the tea Jamie offered her, "just keep breathing through it, love."

Winnie took a loud slurp and Abigail moved back down, Jamie helping her as she made to get comfortable again.

"Easy for you to say, you old witch," Abigail let out a shaky laugh and Winnie cackled loudly.

Jamie didn't say anything, slightly uneasy about the casual banter between the two. After all, Winnie did have a reputation for witchcraft and he had seen the inside of her house.

Plus, he was still worried she'd put a curse on him. He only hoped it would be AFTER the babe came.

Hours later...

Jamie had gone up and down the stairs and in and out of the bathroom so many times, his legs felt weak.

The light in the room had changed and whilst the candlelight remained the same, Winnie opened the curtains to reveal that night had given way to early morning. The sun had yet to rise and the sky was a beautiful duck egg blue.

Of course, Jamie couldn't really appreciate the beauty when his wife's screams and cries rose to an almost inhumane crescendo.

She had moved from lying down, sitting on the edge of her bed, to finally being on all fours, her head buried in the pillow at points as she screamed.

Jamie was instructed to rub soothing circles over his wife's back as Winnie systemically switched between checking her underneath her dress and wetting a flannel for Abigail to suck and bite into.

When Abigail lifted her head, sweat shining on her face and her teeth gritted against her pain, Jamie moved his hand over her hair and pushed it away.

"Do you want me to-"

"If you ask me if I need or want anything one last time, I'll wring your bloody neck!" She growled before pain washed over her again and she lowered her head into the pillow to scream.

Jamie paled and looked at Winnie for support, but she just carried on checking Abigail and smiling sweetly.

"That's normal. Trust me, she's been saying a lot harsher words to me every time you leave the room," she paused as her hands moved out of sight and she looked at Abigail, "right. Hen, you're ready."

Suddenly, Abigail lifted her head back up, a petrified expression on her face as she gripped the covers in both her hands, tight.

"I'm not! God, I thought I was but I'm not!" She screamed again, trying desperately to keep herself breathing.

"Love, it's alright."

Abigail could only sob as the pain became almost unbearable, but Winnie's hand coming down in a gentle slap on her thigh got her attention back.

"Young lady! You are going to take deep breaths and when I tell you to, you're going to start pushing, alright?" Winnie's tone brokered no argument and Abigail could only nod.

"Jamie," Abigail's hand closest to him reached out and desperately begun to grasp at his own, "Jamie, I'm scared."

"I won't leave you. I'm right here and-and I'm scared too. But think about our child. They'll be here soon and you'll hold them in your arms."

A long hour passed. Abigail's cries, curses, heavy breaths and screams filled the room until her voice grew hoarse. Jamie stayed holding her hand and rubbing her back whilst Winnie helped deliver their child, telling Abigail to push a bit more every so often.

"Right...Mr. Norrington!" Winnie, still with her hands up Abigail's dress looked at him, "You're going to come around here with that sheet and be ready."

Jamie looked one last time at Abigail and in the break between pushes, she let him go and nodded.

"Go. Go, darling," she accepted a quick kiss to her forehead before her head buried itself back into the pillow.

He moved away, grabbing the clean sheet Winnie had instructed him to get. He moved to the side and caught a glimpse of...well, everything. He looked away hurriedly, taking deep breaths himself as he prepared for what was to come.

It happened so quickly. Winnie had yelled at Abigail to give one last big push, his wife screamed, Winnie's hands were holding onto something and trying to catch what Jamie knew to be a tiny human being and the next thing he knew, he was holding this small, blue, still baby in his hands.

He wasn't sure what to do until Winnie directed him to rub the sheet over them.

"Rub him. Get him awake and warm, clean his nose and mouth," she moved away towards the bed as Abigail collapsed, face down against the sheets, "I've got your wife."

Jamie did as he was told, wiping away blood and fluids from the tiny creature. He could make out the small features and then-

The babe moved. Cried out softly at first and then, began to wail.

Jamie stopped and watched the tiny person move. Breathe. And it hit him.

His son.

He had a son.

In the years to come, he would proudly tell his child how he whimpered and sobbed at the sight of him. How his hands pulled him closer and his face hovered over the babes. How he pressed his forehead to his lips, not caring the babe may still be slightly dirty.

How, even as Winnie attended to Abigail with scissors and strings and used the bucket by the side of the bed for its intended purpose, he couldn't take his eyes off of the tiny boy.

Winnie appeared in front of him far too soon but gently instructed him to give her the babe.

"I'll finish him up, you go to your wife," she and the babe moved away, towards the tiny table that she'd put with her bag.

Jamie took one last look at his son before moving back over to the bed. Her eyes were shut and she was still taking deep breaths, but she looked utterly relieved.

He sat down by her side and his hands moved over her neck, holding her gently.

"Abigail?"

Her eyes flickered open again and he saw the slight shake from her exhaustion, her lips quivering.

"That hurt...so much."

"You did so well," he told her proudly, having been there with her through the worst of the pain.

"Are they alright?"

"He's well."

Abigail suddenly laughed as tears ran down her cheeks.

"He? We have a he?"

Jamie nodded and leaned down, pressing a kiss against her lips. She eagerly accepted his affections and her hands moved over his arms, perfectly content to just let him stay there.

Winnie moved around the other side of the bed and looked down at the two.

"Mr. and Mrs. Norrington. Your son is ready to say hello."

Jamie pulled away and watched Abigail turn wide, waiting eyes to the bundle in Winnie's arms.

"Nightdress undone. Get that babe on that tit," Winnie smirked down at Abigail and Jamie helped his wife as her hands shook on the buttons. When her chest was bared, Winnie leaned over and slowly lowered their child onto her.

She let out a small gasp as her eyes landed on his face, his whimpers and wails quieting as he pressed against her.

"Hello...hello little one," more tears fell from Abigail's face as she looked in awe at her child.

The babe in response wiggled slightly as it settled on her and Jamie could have watched them both for hours.

It was only a few minutes though, before Winnie came to him, her bag now packed up again and her hand on his shoulder.

"Come, Lad. Help an old woman down the stairs."

He left his wife and son on their bed as he walked Winnie down. When they got to the living area, instead of heading towards the door, she simply settled into his armchair.

"I'll stay for the night, make sure all is alright," Winnie eased herself back against the chair and smirked as she got comfy, "give you any helpful pointers so you won't panic."

"We have a guest room you can use, Winnie."

"Can't lie down, bad back. You get back upstairs. And young man...don't fret. All is well and you have a healthy baby boy. I just want to make sure nothing pops up."

"Like?"

"Your wife wants a bath and you don't know how to change the babe," she smirked, though Jamie knew she was only kidding.

"Winnie, thank you. Truly," his hand came to her shoulder and he almost wanted to hug her for all she had done, "I'll call if I need you. Help yourself to anything you may need."

He spent a few minutes, moving about the kitchen and pointing out to her everything she was welcome to. He also moved to the back door and poked his head out, checking to see if the dogs were still alright. As soon as they saw him, they began to bark for attention, but he shut the door again. He wouldn't let them in until Abigail was sure.

Jamie went back upstairs, eagerly walking into his bedroom to find his wife and son still on the bed. He sat down on the sheet, not wanting to disturb the pair too much as his son was now happily attached to one of her nipples.

His hand moved over the babe's head, marveling at the sight.

"My son," he said more to himself than anything, still not quite believing he was so blessed.

"Mmm. Winnie warned me it may be difficult to feed in the first hour but...look at him."

He leaned over the pair and pressed another kiss to his wife's forehead.

"I am so proud of you."

Abigail smiled at her husband, before looking back down at the babe.

"I think...I think we should take your name suggestion for him."

"Jamie II?"

Her laugh sounded heavenly after all the hours of her screaming.

"No...Lawrence. I like it. Lawrence...Theodore?" She asked him hopefully, though he could not deny her the second name when he had picked the first.

"Your brother will have a field day."

"Yes...Jamie," her eyes came back to his and she asked, "are you happy?"

"Yes. Are you?"

"Yes. Extremely."

The peaceful moment was only broken when the barking from outside rose to such a clamor that neither could ignore it.

"You best let them in or we'll never get any sleep."

"Just for a bit," Jamie got up and returned downstairs, passing by Winnie as she began to knit by a now lit candle.

He opened the back door and allowed Jules and Bertie in, though he had to hurry after them as they immediately bounded through the living room and up the stairs, obviously sensing a disturbance since they'd heard their mistresses screams.

Though, when they entered the room, they did not jump on the bed, but nervously walked back and forth, trying to catch a glimpse at the newest occupant.

"Easy, boys. Easy," Abigail tried to sit herself up, but gestured to Jamie, "you take him. Let them see our son."

He smiled as his lad was returned to his arms and he squatted down in front of the dogs.

"You two. BEST. BEHAVIOUR. This is your newest master. Lawrence Theodore Norrington. I want you two to look after him," he allowed a section of the sheet to fall away, exposing the side of his sons head.

They approached cautiously and sniffed at the bundle, but they did not go any farther than that, as if they knew what their master had told them. That this small being was precious cargo.

Jamie looked back over at Abigail who had a small, sleepy smile on her face.

"You best take them back down. We'll have to get up in the night...morning...whatever time it is."

He nodded at her and whilst he would have passed their son back, he could see the exhaustion pulling her into sleep.

He led the dogs back out and downstairs, his son still safely tucked in his arms as they went.

Winnie called them over and they instantly settled at her feet, as though she herself had trained them to do so.

"Well done, you two. Well done," she nodded her head at Jamie as she continued to knit, and seeing his dogs would be taken care of, slowly made his way back upstairs.

His footfalls were slow and he was as quiet as he could be, gently rocking and looking down at his son as they returned to the room.

As expected, Abigail was now fast asleep in their bed, still lying on her back and with one arm out as though she waited for their return.

Carefully, reluctantly, Jamie moved over to the cot in the corner of the room and placed his son inside.

The child wiggled only slightly, but his wails had desisted and his mouth opened in a slight yawn as his own sleep pulled him away.

"Lawrence," Jamie's hand came out again to smooth over the top of his son's head, "my boy. You are so loved. More than you will ever know. And we will both be here for you, no matter what happens. I promise to be the best father I possibly can be. For now...sleep well, my son."

When he came away, his heart did feel as light as his step. His head clear.

He climbed in bed next to his wife and pulled her into his arms. She did not wake, but her arms came about him and her head pressed against his shoulder.

He knew that he had been telling the truth to her earlier.

Whilst he didn't think he could get any happier, Jamie had never felt so...complete. His family. His life. And despite all his worries and concerns, he will have this happiness and he will hold onto it and protect it and keep his promise to his son. And he will love his wife and child, for the remainder of his days and beyond.


	27. The Definition of Happiness

The Definition of Happiness

The first few months of Lawrence Theodore Norrington's life was described by his parents in many ways.

Exhausting. Tiring. Draining, were usually the top descriptions.

But there were also moments that both Abigail and Jamie could happily describe as blissful. When they weren't completely deprived of sleep and were able to focus and memorise events, they knew that these images would forever be imprinted on their minds.

Abigail enjoyed waking up in the mornings, alone, and wondering where her husband and child were this time. She'd walk down the stairs and find Jamie in the kitchen, seated at the table with only his trousers on, and his hair still messy, eating what breakfast he had scraped together from leftovers.

Their son was pressed, contently against his shoulder. Sometimes asleep, sometimes wiggling against his neck to get closer to his father for cuddles. She would only interrupt to press a kiss to Lawrence's head and then to Jamie's cheek but would busy around with a proper breakfast for her husband and herself, constantly looking back at them.

Her other favourite moments were finding him some nights, in the same position with Lawrence, though both were contently fast asleep. Snuggled in his armchair, with a book open on his knee and his boots kicked off and pushed to the sides.

Jamie enjoyed walking in on his wife bathing, her son held out in front of her as she gently lifted him up and down, dipping his feet in the water and making faces at him. His sons first gurgles of laughter made both their hearts swell and she would do it, only until his laughter turned to cries to be fed.

One image, forever imprinted in his mind, was when he'd bought Abigail a rocking chair and found her using it the very next morning.

He had been awoken by her gentle humming and opened his eyes to find his wife seated and gently moving back and forth. The first rays of the morning sun were behind her and she almost had a heavenly glow about her. Her shoulders bared and her breast out as their son fed himself until he was satisfied.

They both had shared joys also. When they passed him between the other and watched the way either lit up, even if it was to change his sodden pants or clean up the sick that was down his shirt.

The walks to and from the market, where people would constantly stop them and ask to look at 'young master Norrington'. Each would congratulate them on a beautifully bonny, strong boy. Some even stopped to give small gifts, like a new baby rattle or booties for the winter months.

Forever and ever, these images would stay clear in their minds.

Of course, there wasn't a smooth run for those first few months. As was always the case with first-time parents, they had to learn things the hard way. Lawrence's case of a slight cradle cap had sent both into a tizzy. Colic had Abigail in near hysterics herself and a small cough kept them both up at night, constantly checking and swaddling Lawrence to ensure he wouldn't get sick.

Their saving light was Winnie, who had come not only to check on Lawrence but relieve them for fifteen minutes to try to gain back what sanity they had lost with their sleep.

Whilst she checked him over downstairs, ensuring he was healthy and growing correctly, Abigail and Jamie could catch up on food, naps, cleaning or...other activities they missed.

They both missed sleep greatly and that always took precedence over everything else. And their private time was never private anymore, but neither would swap the memories.

Their son's first smile.

His first laugh.

The small gurgled happy noises he made in response to something they said as if he understood and wanted to talk also.

The utter purity of everything around and about him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jamie was leaning over his son's cot, ensuring his blanket was tucked around him, but not TOO tight and that he was the right temperature and...well, everything he could fuss over to spend a little more time looking down at him.

He could always find something about his tiny mouth or nose that made him keep looking, especially when he saw a little bit of his wife there. So far, he'd determined his son had his eyes and chin, but the rest of him was definitely Abigail.

His wife at that very moment moved to the side and leaned against him.

"Do you regret having him now? Not waiting for a few more years?"

His arm moved about her waist and he shook his head.

"No, no...not a chance."

"Good. Because you're going to have to do it all over again in about eight months."

He didn't quite catch her meaning for a few seconds, but when he looked down at her and saw her hand purposefully rest against her stomach, he realised what her words meant.

"You're not?" He smiled down at her, feeling that strange, familiar swell in his heart.

She nodded and returned his smile.

"Norrington junior mark two."

Jamie's arms went about her and pulled her close. They both tried to keep their laughter muffled as their son slept, but it was difficult when the joy inside of them overflowed.

A short while later...

The warm day had called for a quick bath for both of them and afterward, they lay naked on their bed, cooling down and holding one another in blissful contentment.

The only disturbance was a tiny, short cry from Lawrence, that gave way to small whimpers.

Abigail let her husband get up and fetch him, moving over so he could place their son between them on the bed.

When Jamie laid down and they both cooed and talked to their son, Lawrence seemed immediately pacified by their attention and only gurgled and looked above him at the ribbons and shiny trinkets his mother had hung from the ceiling for his benefit.

"I can't stop looking at him sometimes," Abigail gazed in wonder down at her son as she leaned on one arm.

"Neither can I. Do you know why?"

Abigail nodded and took Lawrence's hand in her fingers, letting him test his grip on her.

"Because he's us. Half you, half me. I love him so much...I didn't think I could love anything as much as you, but...look at him."

Jamie shuffled closer, content with looking at both his son and wife. However, Lawrence had other ideas and the hand closest to Jamie came out and 'bopped!' him playfully on the nose.

"Oof!" Jamie, not really hurt but still disrupted in his peaceful state, playfully glared at his son. Abigail could of course only laugh.

"I think that was a call to fight."

"He'd win. I'm far too old to compete with such strength-oof!" Of course, not happy with hitting his father just once, Lawrence did it again on the exact same spot.

Jamie pushed himself up on one arm and leaned over his son with a 'stern' look.

"Now, listen to me young man, I will not tolerate this tomfoolery."

Lawrence was obviously not listening to his father because he threw out his hand again and hit him, this time on his arm. AND he had the audacity to gurgle happily and smile up at his father.

Abigail laughed again and kissed her son's hand.

"You have your mother's fighting spirit," she glanced up at Jamie and smirked, "and your father's stubbornness."

At that moment, Lawrence having exhausted himself with all the fight opened his mouth in a loud, wide yawn.

"Does he need to be fed?" Jamie smiled at his wife, that familiar sparkle behind them.

"Not for another hour."

"Good," he pressed a quick kiss to his son's forehead, "now, I'm terribly sorry to do this to you Lawrence, but you've hit me three times AND your mother has just insulted me, so I'm afraid it's the bed for you."

He allowed Abigail her chance to give their son a small peck on his hand before he picked Lawrence back up and put him against his shoulder as he got out of bed.

"Is this your idea of punishing him? Sending him to his bed?" Abigail watched her husband walk away, her eyes drifting over his strong back.

"It's not for him," Jamie looked over his shoulder at her, "I'm going to make you pay for that stubborn comment-what are you looking at?"

Abigail's eyes had traced a fine line down from his back and were now pointedly staring at his buttocks.

"Just admiring the lovely view."

"Voyeur," he placed their son in his cot, fussing over him for a moment as he settled down.

"I can't help it. You do have a rather nice...pert bottom."

Slowly, he turned to his wife with a look of surprise and disbelief.

"Isn't that my line?"

Abigail rolled onto her back and stretched, content and purposefully arching her chest out.

"Well, you can't see my bottom right now."

"You know, I think I just remembered something very," he moved back over to the bed and clambered on, "very important."

His hand moved over her, from her neck, in between her breasts and then settling over her stomach where he now knew their next child lay.

"Oh?" Her own fingers suddenly wrapped around his cock and she smiled lavishly at him, "And what's that?"

He leaned closer, his face hovering over hers.

"I love you. More than anything in this world," he rubbed the tip of his nose against hers, gently and repeatedly, "and I will forever do so until the stars burn out and the oceans dry up."

Abigail sighed happily and began to pump him, up and down, wanting him inside of her but also happy to just feel his hardness in her grasp.

"And I love you, my wonderful, stubborn husband."

Jamie chuckled and moved over her, pressing his body flush to hers.

"Oh, now you're asking for it."

They both muffled their own laughter, pressing their lips together and letting their hands roam and smooth over skin they already knew so well.

From the outside, it looked to be such a small house. But anyone would be surprised to see the vast happiness and love overflowing from within.

It's a shame they could not see what was to come. One last trial. One last adventure before the end.


	28. Changeling I

Changeling I

As Abigail wandered through the market, her son tucked safely against her and secured inside his sling, she met the usual crowd of people who wanted to stop and offer their congratulations and see how well her son was growing.

She couldn't blame them, her son was utterly charming when he was snuggly pressed against her, sleeping away most of the day when he wasn't asking to be fed.

But as she walked along and continued her shopping, her own sense of safety and security fled when she caught sight of familiar figures.

Outside a pub, crammed around a table, talking and drinking were four figures she recognised almost immediately. More of Barbossa's crew from the Pearl.

She turned hastily but did not run, knowing it would only draw attention to herself if she did so. She walked a little more, trying to calm herself as she held onto her basket and her child, thinking about what to do. If she left now, she'd be alone as she made her way home, and whilst it was still early, she'd rather not risk putting Lawrence in that situation.

But she could not risk walking around and allowing the day to grow later. And if they'd already seen her, what point would there be in avoiding them now?

She went to familiar stalls, wondering if she could pay someone to go and fetch her husband when her saving grace came from an unlikely source.

"Hello, hen," Winnie appeared at her side and gave her one of her large, toothy smiles, "you look all sorts of frazzled today. Little man been keeping you up?"

Abigail let out the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding in and tried to urge her heart to beat a little slower.

"Something like that! Oh, Winnie, I'm very glad to see you," Abigail fiddled with the basket in her hand, making out it was heavy, "I was going to pop by later but now you're here, do you want to come back with me and stay for dinner?"

Winnie looked her up and down a couple of times and glanced over her shoulder as if checking something out. She turned back with a big, knowing smile.

"Aye'. You ready to go now?"

Abigail nodded and they made their way casually out of the market, Winnie keeping the conversation going as they walked, Abigail half-listening and the rest of her staying alert.

They were on the rough road home and she glanced behind her once, just checking that they weren't being followed, when Winnie took her arm and made her look back around.

"It's alright, Hen. They're not following us. And yes, they noticed you, but they made no move to get up when they clocked me. My magic may be old, but it hasn't faded and to certain individuals, they can recognise a witch when they see one. Or when she exposes herself," she winked at her and Abigail did feel a little better. She was grateful to have Winnie as a friend, her, and her powers.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The week that followed was one of great caution and planning. Abigail had told Jamie about who she had seen at the market and when they sat down with Winnie, they hatched a plan.

It wasn't one to seek them out, no. It was simple: Safety and Security. They would always carry a weapon on them when they were out. If they had to go out alone, they would keep to the busy streets and take no shortcuts. And regardless of how pressed for time they were, they would NOT stay out after dark. If it was a necessity, then they would go to an Inn or shop and send for a carriage or wagon home.

Winnie, meanwhile, put out what wards she could and charmed the house.

_'No pirate or scurvy scum is going to get past these!'_ She'd proudly proclaimed as she looked up at the little bottle she'd placed above the door, right next to Tia's charm. Jamie, of course, merely stated that it was all 'fuss and nonsense', but quietened down when both women glared at him.

Abigail's guard may have been up, but that didn't stop her from noticing the peculiar occurrences. Outside their window at night, where the sound of owls, foxes and other creatures of the night flittered in came a strange...stillness. As if the creatures were keeping quiet.

And whilst the days were warm, she felt the chill around her. Standing outside and hanging up her washing, she stood and looked about. It wasn't necessarily the feeling of being watched just...something or someone was there. And the chill grew and the feeling crept over her. Closer and closer.

Then the dogs began to act up. At first, they would winge and whine for no reason during the night and always stay together, and then when Jamie let them out one day, they refused to come back. They instead took refuge and slept in the barn and whilst it irked their mistress and master, they allowed it. They had their son to look after and they couldn't do with letting the dogs' tension get to him.

Xx Jamie xX

When Jamie had gone down to the cellar, it was because he was just moving older boxes about, trying to find the right tools to repair the broken fence.

He stayed because of the awful smell.

It was old and musty and...rotting.

He found the dead body of a rat in the far corner and grimaced at the sight of it. It had practically been ripped in two, its tiny organs spilled out either side.

He thought to blame the dogs, maybe somehow they had snuck in. But he'd never seen them savage anything in this way.

Overhead, a shrill cry came from his son, quickly followed by the sound of his wife's footsteps as she hurried upstairs to attend to him.

He didn't want to worry her with this and decided to clean and sort it out whilst she was occupied.

He didn't see or hear the door to the cellar slowly and quietly shut behind him.

Xx Abigail xX

Lawrence's cry was no surprise to Abigail. When he was hungry, he'd let it be known to all that he required food IMMEDIATELY.

Her feet carried her into their bedroom and walked over to the cot.

Her son was wailing, his face scrunched up as his mouth opened wide and his little chubby fists and legs thrashed around.

"Oh, come here you little noisemaker," she carefully picked her son up and held him close, "oh hush, hush now. Oh, it's alright. I'm here!"

She shut her eyes as she tried to comfort her son, but he wailed still even in her embrace.

"What's wrong?" She turned herself about, attempting to rock him and soothe him in her arms, "What's all this fuss about-"

She froze when she saw the shadow from across the room. Hanging its body inside the window and climbing in was this...thing. This Unnatural, ungodly creature pulling its way into her house.

Her instincts took over. She turned and ran towards the opened door, but before she could cross it, it slammed in her face and she heard the lock slide into place, even though the key was on her side.

With one arm tightly wrapped around her son, she pulled on the doorknob and tried to force it open. Even the key would not turn.

"Come on! Come on-"

_"MWEN!"_

She turned back around, clutching her son to her chest as she gazed at the creature. She hadn't thought it capable of speech, but the screech it made was clear enough for her to recognise the word.

_'Mine.'_

And she knew it wasn't herself it was talking about.

"JAMIE!" She screamed as loud as she could.

Lawrence's cries had risen and she couldn't blame him for sounding so terrified.

Whatever this form was...it wasn't human.

It was far too tall and slim, almost unnaturally so and it moved on all fours easily, before switching to its back legs. It moved with the shadows, almost blending in with the darkness. It drew closer to them and she screamed again, praying her husband could hear her.

Xx Jamie xX

"JAMIE!"

Jamie had heard her first scream and recognised the pure terror in her voice. He dropped the sack and his broom and bolted up the stairs. The door was shut and locked, but that didn't stop him. With two mighty shoves, it easily broke open and he continued on his way, running full speed through the house.

Her second scream had him grabbing at his sword by the door before he made his way up the stairs.

"Abigail!" He called out and sprinted up them, her screams continuing. His son's petrified wails making his heart race.

When he came to the door and found it shut and locked, he pounded on the wood.

"Abigail?!"

"JAMIE! JAMIE THERE'S SOMETHING HERE! IT WANTS LAWRENCE!"

His wife's cries changed and she screeched as though she were in pain...or being attacked.

Their screams rose, along with the sounds from within. Something was clawing at wood, growling.

"GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR!" Jamie didn't wait for her to follow his instructions and began to give it the same treatment he'd given the cellar door. Unfortunately, they'd only just repaired this door and made it strong and unlikely to get broken down again. But he would not stop. He called out to her and his strength seemed to grow with every cry she emitted.

Suddenly, an inhuman shriek sounded from within. It was so loud and piercing, it hurt his ears and he shut his eyes tight as he focused on breaking down the door, trying to block the sound out.

And then, it was gone.

The growling, the scratching of the wood, the shriek. It was gone.

The only noise from within was Lawrence's wails.

_'Abigail.'_

"Abigail?!" Jamie heard the soft click of the lock and tried the doorknob. He pushed the door open to find...nothing.

There was nothing there, but the damage to the room was extensive. And Lawrence was close.

"Abigail?! Lawrence-"

Her loud sob caught his attention and he followed his ears. She was low on the ground, under something.

He got onto his knees and looked under the bed first and then the cot. And that's where he found them.

He stood again and quickly shoved the cot away from the wall, not caring if it left marks on the floor. When it was far enough, he gazed down at the figure of his trembling, cowering wife. And yet still, whilst she was terrified, her son was tucked against her, safe in her arms.

He got down and immediately placed his hands around them, pulling her up.

"It's me! It's me, darling," his own voice shook with worry as he helped her sit up, "what happened? What did-"

"It-it wanted Lawrence. It tried to take him!"

She finally looked at him, tears streaming down her face and he saw the long claw marks on her. Three welts on her cheek. Three on her forearm from where she'd been holding their son. Three on her neck. They were animal ones, but nothing he had seen before.

"Lawrence," Jamie managed to get his hands around their son, "let me take him. Please, let me, you're hurt!"

Abigail was reluctant to let go of their son, but she let Jamie prise him from her grasp and whimpered when she looked down at her arm.

Lawrence's wails had quietened down to hiccups and sobs, but one look told Jamie that he was alright. His wife had successfully protected their boy.

He slipped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, his lips pressed against the side of her head.

"What was it?"

"I don't know! Oh God, Jamie," she shuddered and clung to his coat, "I don't know! It-it wasn't human! It had claws and walked like an animal and then a man! It came through the window and moved like a cat!"

Whilst hysterical and sobbing, Jamie knew she wasn't delusional. Whatever or whoever had come through the window had attacked her savagely. Both her, Lawrence, and their unborn child had been put at risk. And they couldn't stay there. They had to move somewhere safe and he knew the only place that would welcome them this late.

"Come on. Come, we must go, love," he pulled her up, still holding his son against his shoulder as he did so.

"Where?"

"To a friend."


	29. Changeling II

Changeling II

"It's alright, lad's fast asleep know. Full up and exhausted, but otherwise unharmed," Winnie turned to Abigail and nodded her head, "ya' did a grand job, Hen. Mother bear protecting her babies couldn't have done better."

Abigail nodded but was only half-listening to Winnie's compliment. Her mind was a little frazzled from what had just happened to her and the slight pain in her arm kept her from completely retreating into a small ball.

"Sorry, Love," Jamie winced with her as he tightened the bandage around her arm.

"It's alright. You're doing fine," she managed to give him a weak smile and held onto his knee with her other hand.

Once at Winnie's, the elder woman had immediately taken Lawrence from Jamie and told him to see to his wife. They knew they were safe here and Winnie soothed and fed Lawrence in the other room as he attended to Abigail's face, neck, and arm. The blood was little, but the wounds were raw and sore. Winnie made sure to give him the right lotion to 'help it close and heal in weeks, rather than months.'

Abigail settled down and accepted a cup of tea from Winnie, just as Jamie finished up the bandage.

Winnie then gave Jamie a cup before taking her own seat and gazing at the two of them.

"Well then...I'm guessing it's not pirates that brought you here this night?"

"No," Jamie looked down into his teacup, feeling the guilt that he'd been unable to protect his wife in time.

"Don't blame yourself, blame the beggar that did this," Winnie reassured him and took up her pipe, puffing away.

"Winnie...it wasn't a man. It was...oh God, I don't know," Abigail shook her head and her eyes filled with tears again, "I've never seen anything like it before. It was...the closest thing to a living monster I've seen. On land, that is."

"What did it look like?" Winnie leaned forward in her seat, her brow furrowed as she waited eagerly.

Abigail tried her best to describe what she had seen, just as she had done to Jamie. All throughout, Winnie puffed away on her pipe, but when Abigail stopped talking, she pulled it out with a deep frown.

"Oooh...bollocks. I know what creature you saw," she sighed and shook her head, "never thought I'd be dealing with one of those in my lifetime."

"One of what?" Jamie clasped his hands together, waiting for a response.

"Fae. You believe in them, right?"

Jamie felt his anger rise. He'd come all this way to hear something as preposterous as that?!

"Fae?! Fairies and elves and-"

"Yes. I do."

He turned to his wife, looking at her in disbelief. SHE believed in such things?"

She didn't look at him, instead, focusing on Winnie.

"I have since I was a little girl. I never stopped."

"Then you know of their ways...Fae, Goblin, Gnomes, Pixie, Banshee...baby stealers. They are here, asleep. Have been for many years but...something or someone has woken them and is making it target you specifically. For them to attack you in your own home...there's no other way."

Abigail felt sick. She already knew what the other two were scared to say.

"It's them...Hector's men," she shut her eyes, frustrated that they were not as dumb as the others and did not fight them their selves, "I saw them and I thought they hadn't noticed but...they were just pretending. They had this planned."

"It's a trick of some kind," Jamie shook his head and took Abigail's hand, "it has to be. Maybe-"

"Jamie," she finally looked at him and shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks as she did so, "I saw it. I saw it and it tried to take our son. It was no man, pirate or otherwise...it was something that even YOU would not be able to explain."

Jamie felt her hand begin to shake underneath his and he could see her fear and anger in her eyes.

"I'm asking you to think about EVERYTHING we have seen and been through together. Undead pirates, sea creatures, witches, Davy BLOODY Jones!"

Of Course.

How could he forget and convince himself to be so narrow-minded? Just the way he used to be...disbelieving, even if he'd seen it himself. Sea Monsters. A man with tentacles on his face. The walking dead.

"Love...I'm sorry," he placed his other hand over the one he was already holding and took a breath, "I'm-"

"Worried about confronting the truth when it's a terrifying realisation?"

He nodded and she began to cry again.

"We left that life but bad things keep happening. Ghosts, pirates, and fucking fairies!" She pressed her free hand to cover her eyes, trying to stop her tears, "I just want our children to be safe. I want them to be happy and have a normal life!"

"Now then, Hen," Winnie scolded her and tutted, "you mustn't talk like you've already lost. There are ways I can help, though it will be powerful magic we'll need...possibly borrowed from one who has already passed over."

Both Abigail and Jamie turned to look at Winnie as she tapped the end of her pipe against her chin, her eyes pointedly looking down at their joined hands.

"This...sea witch. Tia Dalma...good friend?"

Her eyes flickered up and she smiled widely. Both of them didn't like where she was going with this.

A short while later...

Lawrence had been checked on. The doors, windows, and any openings were sealed up. All candles and lantern light snuffed out, minus a small, white fat one in the middle of the table.

Jamie held his wife and Winnie's hands and they, in turn, held the other's, forming a circle around the table.

Winnie gave them precise instructions: Do not break the chain. Do not speak until the spirit speaks first. And (she aimed this one at Jamie) try to have an open mind, as spirits do not take kindly to non-believers.

When they were ready, Winnie began. She asked them to shut their eyes and imagine themselves surrounded by a white, pure light. There was safety inside the light and there would always be safety, as long as they maintained contact.

And then, she said her evocation.

"I call upon the spirits to gather around us today. We seek one and only one who will help us. Within our circle and within our light, we invite the spirit of Tia Dalma to join us. Will you join us, Tia?"

There was a loud, whooshing sound and Abigail felt her hair lift up in the draft that went around them, although she knew the windows were tightly shut. She gripped Jamie's hand tightly and held on, not willing to let him go for anything.

She waited until the sound died down and slowly opened her eyes.

Everyone seemed the same. She turned to Winnie-

She gasped and looked into the face of a woman she knew to be dead. Tia Dalma's face was in place of Winnie's, her eyes closed as though asleep.

And then, they slowly opened.

"Who disturbs me in my slumber?"

Abigail had remembered Winnie's rule and spoke up.

"Tia...Tia Dalma, it's me," her hand gently shook 'Winnie's' and beckoned her to look, "It's-"

"Ah. You, girl," Tia slowly turned her head and smirked at Abigail, "if it'd been anyone else, I might have threatened to haunt them."

Despite the reassurance, Abigail still felt unsettled with the unearthly way Tia looked at her. She was still terrified of the woman, even in death. But she needed her.

"Tia...I'm glad you came. I need to talk to you. To ask for a favour."

Tia's attention drifted away when Jamie moved in his seat slightly and she arched a brow at him.

"Crabs in your trousers, Admiral?" She tilted her head and observed the momentary panic cross over his face, "No need to worry. I shan't turn you into anything nasty. Your wife would never forgive me."

Jamie nodded and tried to remain as still as he could. He'd not met Tia before and...well, it felt very much like meeting his old schoolmistress again. The one that used a ruler to threaten and intimidate the boys into behaving.

He was grateful when she looked back at Abigail.

"So what ye' want from me now, girl? What has happened for you to disturb my time in _my_ ocean?"

Abigail explained as quickly and clearly as she could. She didn't know if there was a time limit on Tia, but she didn't like leaving Lawrence alone when she knew something was after him.

"And-and I know I have nothing to give you this time! But you're the only one that can help us," Abigail felt her tears fall again, alarmed by the swell of emotions she felt in her heart, "Tia...I know I ask so much but-but I need your help. One last time."

She shut her eyes tight and lowered her head, her tears falling onto their joined hands.

"Please. Please, help us."

She felt a thumb gently rub over her knuckles, comforting her.

"Hush now, _Zanmi._"

Slowly, she looked back up into Tia's face and found the familiar warmth she had shared with her only once. The look that told her she did still have a 'friend'.

"I'll help...but it'll require me using your body. I can do nothing in this state. Are you willing?"

Abigail turned to look at Jamie. He wanted to say no. He wanted to find some other way but...Abigail was determined. Not just for herself but for their son.

He nodded.

She turned back to Tia, a question on her lips but Tia already knew.

"The child inside of you will come to no harm. She'll be under my protection."

Both of them sighed with relief until they registered what Tia said.

"She?!" They both looked at Tia, eyes wide and lips parted in shock.

Tia smiled and nodded.

"She is a strong one. Like her mother. Small and yet already, so much spirit."

After the day of panic and horror, the news of a daughter...was surprising and overwhelming. Abigail began to cry again, though she smiled. Jamie felt his heart swell at the thought that he would be holding his daughter in his arms soon.

Tia couldn't help but laugh, her voice soothing and calm as she spoke.

"Well," she looked between the two with a large smile, "are we in agreement?"

Abigail nodded and sniffed away her joyful tears. They would celebrate later.

"Then listen. Because my plan is simple, but it requires Heart and Courage."

Xx Winnie xX

As Winnie sat back in her seat, sipping her tea and listening to Abigail explain to her everything that Tia Dalma had said, Jamie left them to it as he checked on Lawrence. He already knew the plan and they would not change it, THAT had been Tia's rule. Her only rule.

_'Do not tamper with this. Or I won't be able to help you at all.'_

"Well...I've never been possessed by a sea goddess before. I'm going to have strange dreams later, I can tell!" Winnie sipped her tea again, glad that she'd remembered to pour the whiskey into it.

"Gotta' say, I love the way she thinks. A plan to get rid of those sods and the baby stealer? I was just going to use a sealing spell."

Abigail stared at the flames dancing on by the now lit fire and sighed for the twelfth time.

"Hen ...do not worry," Winnie leaned forward and placed her hand on her friend's knee, "it will be dangerous, but it will work. Have faith."

Abigail turned to her friend with a small smile on her face.

"I do. I'm just...I want everyone to be safe. I wish I could be sure."

"Don't we all, but there's uncertainty in all our futures. But we go in with our heads high, our wits about us and our tits up."

Abigail couldn't help but laugh with her friend.

"I suppose you're right," she turned to Jamie, who came wondering in with Lawrence happily gurgling against him.

"Are we ready?" Jamie looked between the two women, a tired, worrisome expression on his face.

Abigail stood up and approached her husband and son, her hand coming to rest against his cheek.

"As we will ever be," she looked over at Winnie and smiled, feeling her bravado strengthen, "let's go with our tits up."

Winnie cackled and stood swiftly, forgoing her cane as she sent a healing spell over herself.

"Let's go catch us a beastie!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The wind blew quietly through the trees and the only sound was the rustling of the leaves, high up in the canopy.

Abigail took slow, cautious steps forward, looking out in front of her and never behind her. She ensured the sling around her was tight enough as she pressed the bundle close to her chest.

She whispered and spoke in soothing tones, "Be brave. It's alright, be brave."

She didn't have to wait long for the creature to make itself known. It dropped down about twenty feet ahead of her, causing her to freeze and look at it in horror. It approached her on all fours, moving at an inhuman speed, darting in and out of the moonlight.

She turned and bolted but barely had been running for a minute when its thick claws wrapped around her ankle and pulled.

She fell down, diverting to the side as her hands came down to protect herself and the bundle around her front.

She tried to kick herself free and turned about to face the monster, but the next moment she screamed in horror as the sling was ripped from her side and the bundle torn away from her. She reached out desperately, but the creature bounded up and away on its spindly legs, higher and higher until it landed on a tree branch.

"NO! NO!" Abigail screamed up at it again and again, on her hands and knees, and waited. The creature paid her no heed.

It had its bounty. The fabric smelled of the child. It opened the bundle to gaze upon its feast and...it was empty.

It howled in anger and cast aside the torn fabric. It then remembered the mother.

It fell back down on the ground and began to slowly crawl over to her, wondering where she had hidden her child.

Abigail stared it down and waited. Waited until its hot, sticky breath could be felt on her skin.

"NOW!" She cried out, but not at the creature. It tilted its head, curious as to why she would shout such a thing.

And then, the words carried to it on the wind. From somewhere close by, Winnie chanted her spell. A spell of sealing.

Abigail did not know or recognise any of the words. But the creature did. It grabbed at its head, thrashed about desperately, and screeched in what one could only presume was sheer agony.

It turned and attempted to crawl away, back to safety, but Abigail's courage pushed her on. She had come too far to let this creature get away and she was damned if she wasn't going to stop it!

She dove forward and grabbed at its leg, holding on for dear life. The creature tried to swipe at her, but Winnie's words seemed to be working. Weakening it. It was losing its strength.

But then, amongst Winnie's words, Lawrence's own voice could be heard. He must have known something was wrong. He began to wail and the creature heard him. It regained some of its strength and composure and thrashed violently about again, seeking the source of the child.

Abigail couldn't hold on. She was trying her hardest, but the creature was tossing her about on its leg. She was going to get thrown off and then it would really get her son. Her child. She couldn't-

A series of loud barks interrupted her panic and the creature stopped thrashing about. It turned to look at something behind them and Abigail looked with it.

Two familiar figures bounded towards them, not stopping as they barked at the creature that held their mistress.

The creature shrieked in what Abigail could only assume was horror and tried to get free again, but it was too late. Jules and Bertie were already on it, biting and nipping at its body.

"YES! GET IT, BERTIE! COME ON, JULES!" Abigail watched as her two faithful dogs bit and kept the creature at bay, avoiding its swipe with its claws.

They wounded it well enough, that when Winnie came through the clearing, holding above her a crystal and chanting the loud words, the creature could only cower into a ball.

In a blinding flash of light, the creature disappeared.

The stone glowed brightly in Winnie's hand, beating on and off as though the very sun's heart was inside.

The dogs looked around confused and began to bound about, looking to see if it was hiding, trying to sniff it out.

Abigail took deep, calming breaths and it was only Winnie offering her free hand did she remember she was still on the floor.

"Up you get, Abigail. That's the worst of it over," Winnie tucked her stone into her pocket and sighed happily, "don't you worry. I'll be burying this beneath a cedar tree. It should help it sleep and return it to its previous state.

"Just as long as I don't have to look at it again!" Abigail allowed Winnie to help her up and turned to the sound of rustling leaves and her son crying, though not as hard as he was before.

She ran to her husband, ignoring his angry look.

"That was bloody stupid! I told you-"

"I told YOU," she poked him in his free shoulder when she was close enough and looked back at him with the same anger, "it would not have gone for you! You aren't a believer and if something had gone wrong, it would have seen Lawrence in my arms and gone for me as well!"

"Just because Tia said-"

"And she was bloody right!"

"Why do you have to be so-"

"Don't even start!"

They both stared up at one another, breathing heavily and it was only Lawrence's loud, happy gurgle that snapped them out of it. They looked at their son, who had stopped crying and was now looking between his parents, apparently amused by their behavior.

Jamie was the first to soften and wrapped his arm around Abigail, pulling her close.

"Stop frightening the life out of me!" He pressed a kiss to the side of her head and thanked God she hadn't been hurt again.

Abigail, in turn, wrapped her arm around him and brought her other hand up to rest against her son's head.

"I will as soon as people stop trying to frighten us and leave us be."

She remembered the dogs and turned to them, squatting back down and calling them over.

"You are the best dogs in the world!" She kissed and held them when they were close enough to her, fussing over them and feeling a swell of pride, "I'm so grateful to both of you! You're going to get the best dog bowls AND you can sit in my chair whenever you want!"

Whilst Jamie smiled happily down at his wife, he knew this moment wasn't too last. The creature was gone, yes, but...they still had their former crewmates to contend with.

Winnie was the one to break up the happy tableau, looking down at Abigail with a questioning gaze.

"Well...time for Part two of that woman's plan. Are ye' ready, Hen?"

Abigail sighed but nodded.

"As ready as I'll ever be. Let's get those bastards."


	30. Changeling III

Changeling III

"Give us another bottle, Phil! It's bloody freezing here."

"We're out," Phil gestured over his shoulder with his thumb, "Jonas here finished the last one. Said it'd help him 'calm his nerves', so the only way you'll get it now is if you split his stomach open and drink it from there."

The man behind him glared, though Phil could not see. He looked at Jedidiah with a deep frown.

"There is evil in these woods. Evil in what we have summoned. It's against God's way."

"You always say there is evil here," Buckle pointed to a tree and mocked Jedidiah's accent, "there is evil in this tree! We must be cautious! Can't you ever think of the positive? Once it has the brat, the Norrington's will be lost. And then we attack. We get revenge for Guido and our Frankie."

"Not Paulo?" Jedidiah queried.

"Nah, Paulo was a cunt-"

"Shhh," Jonas said from his spot, but Buckle sneered at him.

"Don't you fucking shh me-"

"SHHH. LISTEN...Can't you hear it?" Jonas looked around and stood, trying desperately to hear something in the dark.

The others wondered what was wrong with him until they too heard something...strange. Dogs were howling in the distance, almost wailing in pain. But...something was getting closer and closer. The trees were moving. The wind picked up and they all jumped when the fire was suddenly doused, leaving them in darkness. They could just make out one another's faces.

In the silence, only Jonas seemed to have found his courage.

"Can you not feel it? The...the wickedness."

Nothing made a sound around them. Not even an owl.

"Jonas, shut your mouth! There's no such-"

"Look! Someone's coming!" Phil picked up his cutlass and drew it from its sheath.

"Who goes?! I warn you, we're-" Jonas could not finish as Buckled exclaimed in horror, "Jesus fucking Christ!"

Out from the clearing, the figure drew closer and closer. It appeared to be a tall woman, hidden in shadows as the wind billowed out her hair and skirts. But the closer she drew, the more details they noticed. Details that made their blood run cold.

Her dress and hair, moving about as though they had a life of their own. Her pale skin glowing ethereally in the darkness. Her jet black eyes. And the way she moved...she was not tall nor was she moving quickly.

She was elevated about two feet off of the ground, her toes pointed downwards as she glided through the air. Unstopping. Towards them.

Buckle, in his state of horror and panic, whipped out his pistol and pointed it at the figure. But before he could even fire a quick round, the weapon turned and twisted in his hands. Transformed into something wriggling... something alive.

He screamed and dropped it and when they turned to look upon the ground, they only saw a black adder, slithering away through the dirt.

The fire roared to life and they jumped again, watching the flames dance higher and higher than they had built it themselves.

The figure stopped a few feet before it and they knew her face when the flicker of the light danced across her features.

"Bloody hell! It's her, it's Norrington's wife-" Phil yelped when her head snapped up to look at him and he could see the madness in her eyes.

"SILENCE!" Her voice was not sweet or calm as it had once been. She was something else. Her voice was not of this earth... not of this plane.

All the men whimpered, afraid to move as she just watched them, her eyes slowly roaming over each of them. They felt she was looking right through them. Into their very beings.

They all waited for her to speak. To give a command. She sneered at them, her features filling with hatred.

"Norrington's wife? Mother to his child? That's all I ever was to you. All I would ever be. But no more."

She growled and the flames parted, manipulated by some unseen force. Reaching towards them.

"I hid who I was. I hid my powers to protect those around me, hoping I would never have to reveal them. But no longer!" An inhuman scream sounded from around them, like a banshee joining in on the festivities, "Your creature was defeated. You WILL leave this place and NEVER return. I want you to tell everyone what you have seen here today and tell them that if I or my family is threatened again, I will ensure they suffer the most painful death imaginable!"

They knew they were in trouble when she grinned at them and showed off razor-sharp teeth.

"And to prove I am not lying," her hand came out and she pointed one finger, directly at Jedidiah.

He whimpered and pushed himself back against the ground, but cried out suddenly and clutched his arm.

The others watched in horror as blood spurted down and stained the fabric of his arm. He pulled his hand away and looked at it in horror, the vibrant red glowing bright in the light.

"It's-it's real! Oh christ, it's real!" He looked at Abigail and held up his hands in surrender, "Please... please no!"

She tilted her head as if accessing what to do next. Her hand fell down and she frowned as she looked at each one.

"Pathetic. My hounds of Hell have more guts than you. On your knees," she growled and her voice changed again, almost turning demonic as she roared, "AND BEG FOR FORGIVENESS!"

They did not hesitate and did as she bade them, each one falling to the ground, unable to look away. Not one said a word, their voices stuck in their throats.

Abigail did not like that. The wind began to blow again all around them, but this time it was powerful. It blew fiercely, like a hurricane approaching, whipping the hair around her face.

"I said. APOLOGISE!"

All their voices mingled as one, crying their prayers and apologies. Begging for mercy. For help. To be spared from what she had planned.

Her hands came out again and a slow chuckle escaped from her lips.

"Not good enough!"

They screamed in pain and horror, not able to move as their fingers and hands were contorted and bent to the point of breaking.

"PLEASE! PLEASE, HAVE MERCY!"

"WE'LL LEAVE! YOU'LL NEVER SEE US OR ANOTHER AGAIN!"

"GOD, PLEASE!"

Abigail's cackle grew as she listened to their pleas until she bored with them. Her hands fell down and her laughing stopped as she watched them whimper in pain. She allowed them no rest.

"Now...get out of my sight. Or I'll boil your bollocks whilst they're still on your bodies," she growled at them again, one hand raising and bringing the fire closer to her. Pulling the flame until it danced in her palm and they watched it skim over her skin.

"Or do you prefer your testicles served on a platter?"

She watched, amused as they scurried up and away, calling out to the others to run. To hurry.

Tia Dalma prided herself on her ability to still scare men out of their wits, even though she was very much dead.

Once they were out of sight and earshot, another figure emerged from the woods. Jamie walked around to her side and looked up into the face of his 'wife'.

"Tia?"

Slowly, still levitating in place, she looked down at Jamie's worried, but grateful face.

"Thank you. Truly, thank you. That was...very impressive."

She cocked her head and arched her brow at him. It was...very unusual to see such expressions on his wife, especially with her cold eyes.

"I would like to be left to rest. If you kindly?" The voice that came out was definitely Tia's now. She saw no need to masquerade as Abigail any longer.

"Yes, yes. I think that's done the job," he gave her a nervous smile, "um...can I have my wife back now?"

She grinned at him and he almost flinched at the teeth in her jaw. Sharp and white, like an animal.

"Yes. Look after her and your children for me. You a very lucky man."

He gave her a genuine smile and nodded in agreement.

"I know. Thank you."

She looked away from him, her face obscured by long tendrils of brown hair. The fire lowered back to its natural state and the wind died down around them. Her entire body then slowly fell back down to the ground and as soon as her feet were on the floor, her body swooned to the side. Jamie caught her in time and slowly, helped her sit down on the ground.

"Easy, Love," he held her around her back and waist, pressing her head to his shoulder, "I've got you. Come back to me."

Abigail groaned and raised her head, looking about her as if seeing the place for the first time. She looked at Jamie with wide, startled eyes.

"That felt...SO strange...but REALLY fun!"

He couldn't help but chuckle at her small smile.

"Did we do well?" Her hands came to his shoulder and she looked hopefully into his eyes, "Did it work?"

Jamie smirked at her and nodded.

"They were wetting themselves and ran home screaming to their mothers."

"Thank God. Do you think it's over?" She sighed and leaned back against his shoulder, looking deep into the flames of the fire.

"I think we've certainly laid a good foundation for anyone who was thinking about disrupting our lives again," his fingers moved over her hair, threading through to massage her scalp.

"I hope so. I really do, Jamie."

"Just remember, we'll do this together. If they come, I won't let anything happen to you."

She lifted her head again and brought her hand up to hold his cheek, her thumb brushing over his skin as she saw the sincerity in his eyes.

"Nor I, you. My Darling."

He pressed his lips against her forehead and stayed there for a long while. He felt they were safe. But even if they weren't, they'd figure it out. Together.

"You know...Winnie HAS been offering me lessons and her best spell books," Abigail offered, waiting to see him roll his eyes and scoff at the very idea. But he only pulled back and looked at the fire.

"You know...I would say I don't believe in all that twaddle, but considering I just saw you float in the air, I think that'd be a very good idea."

She smiled, knowing that him agreeing to such a thing was a BIG step for him.

"I love you. You know that, right?"

"More than anything," he looked back down at her, losing himself in her eyes, "I love you."

For a while, they sat side by side, their arms around the other. Neither speaking and listening to the slow crackle of the fire and the return of the night creatures around them.

It was Jamie who broke the moment with a heavy sigh.

"Whilst I would love nothing more than to lay you down on the forest floor and pleasure you until morning, we still have to go and get our son from Winnie's and then return home."

"I think I might have to pass out when we get home," she pouted, sad at the thought she'd be missing out on what she knew to be 'intense pleasure', "I'm bloody exhausted."

He pulled her to her feet and took her hand, leading her away from the campsite.

"Best be quick before she starts teaching him how to summon snakes."

"That would be a good trick for parties."

Jamie DID groan at that.

"Don't encourage it."

His arm was tugged and she forced him to stop and turn back to her. For the first time in days, she wore a relaxed, happy smile.

Her other hand came to rest against her stomach and he knew the reason for her joy.

"A girl."

He took a step back towards her and returned the smile, his own joy spreading over him like a warm blanket.

"Our girl."

"I think," Abigail nodded as she remembered something important, "I think you were right. Evangeline...Evangeline Ann. Our girl."

Jamie felt tears prickle his eyes, overcome with emotion. She had not only allowed his dream to come true and choose the name he had seen but...she'd also wanted to honor his mother.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, his arms wrapping around her waist as her own wrapped around his neck. They just enjoyed the feel of the other, the certainty that no matter what they faced, they would face it together.

They felt the wind pick up again, surrounding them in a small twister. It whipped around their hair and clothes gently and they pulled away at the warmth. The pure energy that crackled around them. They gasped when they heard the familiar laugh of Tia Dalma and began to laugh with her. The wind moved around and above them, soaring higher and higher into the trees until it left the thick canopy and its echo slowly disappeared into the night.

Tia Dalma was finally at peace. And this time, she'd remain there. Because no pirate or former crewmate ever bothered the Norrington's again after that night. For fear, their bollocks would be boiled on their bodies.


	31. A Mark of Love

A Mark of Love

As Abigail left her bedroom and shut the door quietly behind her, she listened closely for signs that Lawrence would wake up. At six months, he'd already mastered the art of sitting up by himself and letting it be known he was awake by laughing happily to himself about anything. Or nothing.

But her son did not gurgle or laugh and she let out a sigh of relief. Of course, she looked down at the gentle swell of her stomach and rested her hand on it.

"At least I'll know what to do with you when you play up. Let's just hope you don't, Evie."

Movement caught her eye and she looked towards the ajar bathroom door, catching glimpses of her husband moving about inside.

She moved closer and slowly pushed it the rest of the way open, smiling at the sight that greeted her.

Her husband, towelling dry his long, wavy hair with his bare, long back facing her. Her eyes roamed over his strong shoulders, down his spine. She wanted to reach out and catch the water droplets falling down his back.

As her eyes lowered, she couldn't help but admire his wonderfully pert backside. Whilst he'd teased her about being a 'voyeur' just as much as he admired her, she did find it utterly adorable. Especially when she recalled the first time she'd ever seen him completely naked and her reaction to his bare backside. Or her reaction to what she discovered there...

Xx The Black Pearl xX

_Abigail's eyes slowly opened when she felt movement underneath her. The mattress creaked and moved and she saw her new husband standing by the side of the bed, smiling down at her._

_"Hello," she said shyly and tucked the covers closer to her chest, "Husband."_

_He leant over and pressed a kiss to the top of her forehead and pulled back with a large grin._

_"Hello, Wife. I didn't mean to wake you."_

_"It's alright, we need to get up eventually before Hector comes barging in," whilst she reasoned with him, she wiggled under the sheets, comfortable in her little ball of bliss._

_Jamie knew she was right. Borrowing someone else's bed had never been his idea of romance and privacy, but it was what they had at the moment and just looking at her so relaxed, happy and satiated did fill him with a little bit of joy. Still, he looked forward to the day when they would have a bed to themselves without feeling the need to get dressed in a hurry and leave._

_She shut her eyes and stretched beneath the covers._

_"I can't believe I'm married to a wonderful man," she sighed contently and he took the opportunity to grab his shirt from the end of the bed._

_"I can't believe I'm married to a wilful, funny and strong woman. On a pirate ship. After coming back from the dead," he shook his head, still unable to say it out loud without feeling ridiculous._

_"This is Surreal. I can't believe I-Jamie! You have a tattoo?!"_

_Jamie froze and his grip tightened on his shirt. He'd completely forgotten about that._

_"Bollocks," he muttered and turned about with a shy smile, waiting to see her expression of shock and possibly disgust. But whilst she WAS surprised, she also looked at it a little curiously._

_"I-I can't believe it!" Her eyes darted up to his and she looked uncertain, "It is real, isn't it?"_

_He sighed and nodded._

_"One of the little regrets from my rebellious youth. Well, as close to rebellious as I ever got."_

_She shifted about, sitting up in the bed and ensuring the covers were clutched tightly to her chest. Despite his reassurance and the slightly dominant way he'd told her not to hide from him, she still had that shyness about her naked body. What he didn't know, was that it was mostly because she felt if she were naked constantly before him, she feared he'd be insatiable._

_"So...what made you get a tattoo in the first place?" She cocked her head and looked at him curiously._

_"Truthfully?" He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, knowing she'd find the next part humorous, "I and a few others left for shore one day, got drunk and...well, dared each other to get one. Luckily, I was the last one to go and the others went on ahead so I picked one that was small and relatively hidden...or so I thought."_

_He watched her look at him and whilst it was turned away from her now, she seemed to be assessing it._

_"I think...I think it's cute," she smiled at him and he cocked his brow at her. He hadn't been expecting THAT._

_"It doesn't...repulse you?"_

_"No," she gave a small, nervous laugh, "why would it?"_

_"Well...you don't usually see respectable gentleman baring them."_

_"Actually...you'd be surprised what respectable gentleman have hidden beneath their clothes."_

_He gave a 'how would you know look' and she scoffed at him._

_"Not like that! My father had one," she tilted her shoulder slightly and reached around with her opposite hand to show him where it had been, "right here. It was quite a large anchor with his first ship's name on it. He got it when he was young as well, but...he showed it off quite a lot. He was proud of it."_

_Jamie thought about it and nodded, conceding her a point. He supposed SOME respectable gentlemen could have a tattoo and be proud of it. Still, he did feel a little embarrassed at WHAT it was._

_"So...why a heart?" She asked again and slipped a little to the edge of the bed._

_"Well, everyone else wanted something that was quite... 'manly' but...I wanted something with meaning. Something important. For...someone special," he gave her a small, sad smile and she felt it tug at her heart._

_"Who is it for?"_

_"My mother. Those are her initials inside."_

_Abigail bit the inside of her cheek when a sneaky thought came over her. She blinked innocently at him and pretended to act surprised when she asked, "Your mother has the same initials as Captain Jack Sparrow?"_

_Jamie looked aghast._

_"WHAT?!" He began to turn frantically about and tried to look at his backside, his hands grabbing at the flesh and trying to pull it around and into view. It was only her little giggle that made him stop and glare at her._

_"You little wench!"_

_Abigail shrieked in delight when he dropped his shirt and made towards her. She tried to scramble out of reach on the bed, but he grabbed her ankles beneath the covers and yanked her back down._

_His body was soon on top of hers and his lips attached themselves to her neck, sucking and nibbling at her already tender skin. Abigail could only laugh in delight at the sensation, especially when her husband's strong hands and fingers ran up and over her body. Abigail couldn't help but roam her hands over his back, purposefully lowering until they rested just above his buttocks._

_"What are you doing?" He mumbled against her neck and she giggled._

_"Just making sure it's not drawn on in ink. If I wet it, will it rub off?"_

_He stilled for a moment, taking in her words. He pulled away with a shrug and a twinkle in his eye._

_"I mean...there's no harm in trying."_

Xx Home xX

"I can feel you looking at me."

Abigail startled slightly, her eyes leaving his pert bottom to look up at the back of his head. He didn't even bother looking back at her, but she knew he sensed her still.

"Sorry, just...thinking. And admiring the view," she sauntered forward, not seeing the need to be distant from him now.

"I told you, you were a voyeur. What had you so deep in thought, my love?" He turned around to face her, smiling when she placed both her hands flat against his chest.

She took a deep, happy breath and let her fingers move down, circling slowly over his nipples.

"How would you feel if I got a tattoo?"

"What would you get?" Jamie arched his brow at her, having a strange feeling she was about to be mischievous.

"Something important to me."

"And where would you get it?"

"The same place as yours," her hands settled on his hips and she smiled sweetly at him, finding it hard not to giggle at the sight of his serious face.

"If you think I'm going to allow you to go someplace and have something tattoed on your-"

"It would be on my back, as is yours!" She protested though it was always a strange argument. Was it on his lower back or JUST on the top of his buttock?

"No."

"Not even if it says 'property of James Norrington'?"

"Don't try to sweet-talk your way out of this," he gave her a stern look and finally stopped towelling himself off to place his hands possessively on her waist, "the only thing you'll be getting on your backside will be my hand."

He saw the little spark of desire in her eyes.

"Oh, promises, promises," she pushed herself closer to him and tilted her head up, invitingly. He lowered his head, slowly and purposefully waiting for the right moment...and then it was interrupted by Lawrence' sudden loud wail from the next room.

Abigail pulled away with a sigh and an innocent smile.

"Oh, my duties call."

She slipped away from him and shrugged her shoulders.

"Maybe I'll get Lawrence's initials instead," she turned away from him, though made sure he heard, "though he, of course, won't be able to appreciate it the way you would. Maybe later I'll try to convince you again, darling."

Jamie watched her walk away, her hips purposefully swaying as she went. When she left the bathroom and entered their room to see to their son, he looked down at his naked form, his erection out and proud and waiting. Of course, if it had a mind of its own, it'd probably be asking him, 'what happened?!'

He could only sigh and shake his head. His wife was mischievous. But no matter how hard she tried to convince him, he wouldn't let anyone else near her backside. Though, he couldn't fault her for trying.

He covered himself with his towel and said, "Stand down, soldier. The battle is lost, but the war isn't over."


	32. Home

Home

Jamie peered over the edge of his book and gazed down at the familiar weight that had suddenly appeared on his feet.

"Hello, young man," Jamie smiled and arched his brow, "back again, young Gulliver? What news do you bring of your travels?"

Blue eyes peered up into blue eyes and Lawrence gurgled happily. But as always, he wasn't one to stay still for long. He pushed himself away from his father's boot and was off like a shot, crawling eagerly back along the floor towards the dogs at the other side of the room.

Jamie watched him go, his heart feeling full yet light as his son toddled about on the floor.

The first time he'd crawled by himself, Abigail had screamed in such a way that Jamie had come barreling down the stairs, almost grabbing his sword before his wife caught his attention.

"Jamie, look! He's doing it by himself!" She squealed excitedly as she knelt on the floor, her hands clapping over her face as she could barely contain herself.

Once the panic had gone and his confusion took over, he looked over at his son as he crawled slowly away from Abigail, going one hand at a time, one shaky arm at a time.

He'd looked straight up at Jamie and smiled and Jamie had quickly fallen to the first step and called to him.

"Come on," he had held up both hands and looked down at his son, "come to papa!"

Lawrence had laughed and eagerly sped up, only faltering once when his hand slipped on the carpet. But when Jamie and Abigail had waited with bated breath to see if he would cry out, he'd bravely pushed himself back up and continued on.

As soon as he had reached his father, he'd held onto Jamie's hands and screamed in an 'I DID IT!' way, that both parents had laughed and applauded him.

Now though, only a month onwards, he wouldn't even stop to grab his father's hands. He would go back and forth and if he was picked up, he would wiggle about and protest in his own way to be put back down.

It was usually by Abigail who hadn't realised she was interrupting one of his many expeditions.

"What's he been exploring this time?" Abigail came through the living room with a vase full of flowers.

"Apparently, he ran into a group of Yahoos," he watched his wife move and place the vase onto the side table.

"Huh! Very scandalous," she looked down at her son with an amused grin, "have you been bothering those Yahoos?"

Lawrence's only answer was to grab at his mother's skirt and push the fabric into his mouth.

"Oh, no! Lawrence, that's not for eating!" Abigail bent down slowly and scooped him up off the floor. As expected, Lawrence wiggled and protested, though began to gurgle happily when his mother held him above her and made faces.

Despite her belly swelling considerably larger by the day, she still managed to pick her son up with great ease.

She also knew not to stay still for too long and one of her favourite things was to dance and sing with him.

Today, was no different and Jamie found his entertainment rich as his wife sung to his son (if slightly off-key).

_I was born in the heather_

_in my sweet Northern Land_

_with a song in my ears_

_and a lute in my hand_

_and I've traveled the plains_

_collecting the sounds_

_and the stories of friends_

_that I sing about now_

_And they call me the last of the bards_

_when I open my lungs_

_and I spill out my heart_

_They call me the last of the bards_

_when I sing my old fashioned songs_

_And I tried not to cry_

_when I left my sweet home_

_where the old pipes were playing_

_my favorite song_

_And I still hear it now_

_on the cold Northern wind_

_and I sing it aloud_

_for the people I miss_

_And they call me the last of the bards_

_when I open my lungs_

_and I spill out my heart_

_They call me the last of the bards_

_when I sing my old fashioned songs_

_I was born in the heather_

_in my sweet Northern Land_

_with a song in my ears_

_and a lute in my hand_

_and I've traveled the plains_

_collecting the sounds_

_and the stories of friends_

_that I sing about now_

_And they call me the last of the bards_

_when I open my lungs_

_and I spill out my heart_

_They call me the last of the bards_

_when I sing my old fashioned songs_

_La la la, la la la,..._

Despite the slight screeches, Lawrence seemed happy to not only listen but join in.

When her song was finished, she turned them about to Jamie and gave him a little curtsy.

"Wonderful!" He applauded them both and laughed when Lawrence, placated at being off of the ground, shoved his whole fist into his mouth, slobbering happily.

Abigail walked them both over and rewarded Jamie's sweet compliments by leaning down and giving him a tender kiss. When she pulled back, they both looked at Lawrence, who seemed utterly ecstatic at being suddenly sideways and looking at his father. So Jamie pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before Abigail decided to put him back down again.

As soon as his bottom hit the floor, Lawrence went forward and shot off again.

"Honestly, he can't sit still long enough!" Abigail watched him go, her hands on her expanding hips as she smiled.

"He gets it from you."

She turned and arched her brow at her husband, but he pretended to be SUDDENLY absorbed in his book.

"Mmm," she pursed her lips and walked away, "certainly not from his father who was an Admiral AND spent time on a pirate ship. No, certainly not."

Alright, so she had a point there, still, he couldn't help but point out the obvious.

"You sailed with your father for those last few years AND you were on the same pirate ship as me!"

Abigail didn't turn to look at him, merely shrugged her shoulders and waved at him dismissively with one hand.

"It's from both of us then. What did you want for dinner?"

He smiled at the way she changed tack and looked back down at his book.

"Do we still have that Shepherd's pie from earlier?"

"Yes, AND I can put some potatoes on now?"

"Yes," he flicked his gaze back at his son and smiled, "I'll keep an eye on the explorer."

Watching his son go back and forth was quite entertaining at points for Jamie. He used to believe nothing could be as good as reading a book and getting lost in the world, but Lawrence's face when he found something new and interesting...full of wonder and happiness and joy and so much of Abigail and so much of himself...it made everything seem so simple.

And yet...something had been nagging at him. It had started off as just a question, a query really and then his imagination had run wild. They had another child on the way and their house was just big enough for that but what if they wanted more? They both had voiced their opinions on wanting a large family, but they could not fit another child into this house without adding onto it.

They'd put a lot of love and effort into perfecting the house and it was done but if the need and desire for another child grew, could they really build upon it? Perhaps...Perhaps, it might be time to consider moving on. Especially now Lawrence had seemed to inspect every inch of the lower level and had been attempting to conquer the stairs but not quite figuring out how.

"You look far away," a gentle voice shook him out of his deep thought and he turned to his wife with a sad smile.

"I've been thinking about something...I think I might need to talk it over with you to stop these thoughts."

Abigail moved around and walked to her own armchair, sitting down and looking first at her son and then at Jamie.

"It's about the house, isn't it?"

Jamie was surprised only for a moment but then, Abigail always had an uncanny ability to know what he was thinking, even if he wasn't sure about it.

"There's enough for you, me, Lawrence and soon to be Evie," he smiled down at her stomach, longing to hold his daughter, "and there's just enough space for the dogs. But we wanted more, didn't we? Three, four...fifteen?"

Abigail smiled widely at him, remembering how she had teased him on their second wedding night.

"I thought we agreed on twenty," she sighed, her joviality slightly dissipating, "and it's true. There's not enough space. I do adore this place but...if our family does grow, then we will have to either build on it or get a bigger one."

There was a moment of silence between the two, only broken by the little 'thump, thump' of Lawrence's travels.

"We could afford it. I mean...you could, it's your money, you do whatever you want and-"

"Jamie," she said to him sternly, giving him 'the look', "OUR money. Yours. Mine. The children. Everyone deserves a say. And...moving on would be hard but...a new adventure. Someplace...wonderful. More familiar than this...maybe even home to England, if you wanted?"

Jamie thought about it and the idea of returning home seemed pleasant enough. But it depended on where she was thinking.

"Where would you have us go? The city?"

"God no, not London...I don't think I could deal with that noisy business again," she got a faraway look in her eyes and smiled to herself, "I always liked the idea of living near the beach. We had a holiday cottage when I was younger and I LONGED to be there...a beautiful garden with wildflowers and a walk in the summer sunshine, down to the beach."

"Back near the sea? Does it call to you?" He chuckled when she looked back at him, obviously forgetting he'd been there.

"Close. Just imagining hot days, walking with the children and the dogs... sleeping on the blanket as they splash about in the sea."

Jamie had it. A clear picture in his head when she talked about it. It sounded... Perfect. Absolutely picture perfect.

"If you want it...then let's go for it."

She looked back down at Lawrence when he came back over and smiled.

"What about you? Do you think we should look for a new house?"

Lawrence gurgled again and so excited was he by his mother's question, he promptly fell onto his side and landed on her bare feet.

"I think," Jamie watched his son wiggle about, trying to push himself back over the right way, "that must be a maybe."

"Together?"

He looked her in the eye and nodded.

"Together."

Xx Two years later xX

Jamie hadn't been so relaxed in a long time. With his eyes shut as he enjoyed the late evening summer sunshine, his hands clasped behind his head, his tired and weary leg muscles stretched out before him, he was truly content. The garden hadn't taken that long to do today and he was glad they only had a limited amount of farming. More would appear next week, but he could handle it. And if he couldn't, he'd happily accept the help of one of his friends in town.

A small noise caught his attention, but he already knew what it was. The familiar hurried, 'thump, thump', as a little figure approached.

"Hello, papa!"

"Hello!" Jamie turned to look at his son, but he was already looking at his back as he ran past, "Goodbye!"

"Lawrence, slow down!" Abigail laughed as she carried Evangeline in her arms, "You'll fall down a rabbit hole and then you'll be in trouble!"

Lawrence did not slow down. He gallivanted and ran about, the dogs weaving in and around him as he went.

Seeing she was not needed, Abigail sat herself down on the grass next to Jamie's chair, bouncing her daughter on her knee as she sang a nursery rhyme to her.

Jamie couldn't help but think about how perfect his life was. How he loved his odd little family.

Lawrence was still exploring where he can. He liked to explore at the most peculiar times, Abigail finding him in the bathroom in the early hours of the morning, pretending their bath was a ship. He also liked to take his father's boots and tell everyone that sea monsters took them 'for reasons I can't tell you'. Jamie would usually find them hidden in the lower shelves of the kitchen cupboards.

Evangeline already had a wild personality. Like Lawrence, she liked to explore, but sometimes she wouldn't stop when confronted with an obstacle. Jamie and Abigail had been shocked to find her on the second to last step at the top of the stairs one day, having clambered all the way up by herself.

Occasionally, when she wasn't exploring, she could be found with the dogs. Just sitting with them, playing with them and a ball or taking them for 'walks' in the garden and telling them in her own language about the flowers she saw.

Jamie could remember the day she was born, just as well as he remembered Lawrence'.

They had stayed in the old house long enough for Evie and since Abigail had gone into Labour whilst Jamie had been in town, she had to wait for him to return. By the time he got back to the house, there was no time to run and get Winnie, so Jamie had helped deliver his daughter, all on his own. He'd remembered everything that Winnie had done before and Abigail had praised him afterward, proud that he hadn't fainted.

Though, just as before, he had sobbed as he held his child in his arms.

Of course, they had both heard the saying that the son would be closest to the mother and the daughter to her father, but they proved the people saying it wrong.

Neither had a favourite and neither would spoil one whilst the other sat forgotten.

Both Evangeline and Lawrence were loved and adored equally, by both their parents.

Jamie loved finding both of them 'helping mama to cook'. Evangeline's delicacy was a rather interesting take on an Eton mess. Of course, she was happy to break up the meringue and eagerly whip the cream but she also thought that meant mashing and squashing the strawberries until they ran into a gooey mess. Still, her father would eat it with great relish, making all the right noises.

And Lawrence would help in his own way. He liked to put the carrot sticks up his nose and make his sister laugh.

Abigail loved finding her husband fast asleep, both of their children tucked up on some odd way against him.

In the garden, in the late evening sun, sleeping with an arm around them each.

On the floor in the living room, Evangeline in a ball on his chest and Lawrence laying like a ragdoll over his feet. Sometimes, the dogs would be around them, keeping them warm or just wanting the affection.

The dogs in question had a litter of pups soon after arriving at the new house. Eight to be exact and all but two found homes. So they kept them and THIS TIME, Abigail got to pick the names.

Bertie, Jules, Little Jack, and Little William rushed about the place, bounding over the other and chasing and playing with Lawrence.

Jamie begrudgingly called them their names but purposefully put 'Little' each time he called. It made him feel better.

And Abigail...still, wonderful unchanging Abigail. Only her hair was longer and wavier, the sea air doing it wonders. And of course, Jamie hadn't allowed himself to become too out of shape. He kept himself just as fit as ever to keep up with the children and whatever plans Abigail usually had for him.

It usually required the slightly hurried, eager way they made love when the two children had gone off to sleep.

They changed their routine and Jamie missed her eager screams and yells, but they'd been replaced by quiet whimpers and gasps that he loved. And she, in turn, loved to touch him and get him to breaking point before capturing his lips in a hungry kiss. He'd always cry out, the sound stopped only by her mouth.

Of course, they did have SOME noisy days. Since they both missed Winnie terribly, they hired a sitter who was very much like her, just to sit in on the children whilst the two finished their work in the garden.

Abigail would just sneak Jamie into the shed he built and make love to him, being as loud as she wanted.

As if on cue, knowing he was thinking about her, Abigail rested her hand on his arm and asked, "Happy?"

Jamie turned and looked her in the eye.

"Perfectly. You?"

"Blissfully," she only looked away because Evangeline decided to get up and follow after her brother and the 'ogs ogs!'

They both watched her catch up with Lawrence. She'd been walking for a while, but as it was she still needed practice and when she fell over once, her big brother immediately came over and hoisted her up. He took her by the hand and they quickly walked and skipped through the tall grass, smiling and giggling.

Jamie looked back at Abigail and offered her his hand.

"Join me?"

She arched her brow at him and then at the rickety chair underneath him.

"I don't think that the chair will support both our weights, darling."

"Point taken."

He stood up and instead, sat down on the ground beside her. He leaned in closer to her, one hand on the ground and the other cupping her cheek.

"Hello," he rubbed the tip of his nose against hers and she looked utterly content.

"Hello, darling."

He kissed her tenderly and her hand came up through the long, brown locks of his hair and rubbed the back of his scalp.

When he pulled back, he planted small kisses along her cheek, towards her ear.

"Want to walk down the beach later?"

"I would love that," she purred as his beard rasped against her skin, "shall we take a picnic?"

"Mmm. Sponge cake?"

Abigail pulled back and rolled her eyes.

"I'm not getting up and baking you a sponge now," she smirked at him and fluttered her lashes, "unless you want us to stop what we're doing?"

Jamie just pulled her back closer, his lips pressing against the pulse point of her neck.

"Sod the sponge cake," he mumbled against her skin and she giggled.

"Such language," her own lips hovered over his ear as he continued to kiss and rub his beard against her, "might have to find a better use for that mouth."

"I'm finding one right now," both his hands suddenly came about her back and he pulled her down with him.

"Oi!" She laughed as she landed on top of him, her hands resting on his chest, "Behave yourself. We have young eyes and ears."

Jamie had no intent to continue on in such a public place. No, he was saving that for later. But, he did pull her down and let her rest her head against his chest as his own rested on the soft ground below.

They both shut their eyes and listened to the sounds around them. The giggles, the gurgles of happiness. The dogs barking and panting as they bounded about. The sound of one another's heartbeats. Jamie placed his hand over her back and could feel the beat beneath his palm. Abigail could hear his, through his chest, where her head lay.

They enjoyed the rays of the sun in silence. Their family, ambling about only a few feet away from them. Safe. Happy.

Jamie couldn't help but smile. His life was good.

"This must be what Heaven is like."

His wife smiled and cuddled up closer to him, her leg hooking over one of his and her hands wandering over his torso. Her life was good.

"If it's not...well, I'm not going."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In Which the Bard would like to take a moment to say: Thank you. For everyone who has come this far and enjoyed the journey with me. For the time being, this is the end for Abigail and Jamie. This is their much deserved Happy Ending after all the shit I put them through. And a special mention to Kells for all the shit I put them through also XD

Maybe they'll be a sequel if I get more ideas. Maybe I'll do one-offs? Maybe even a Christmas special? Depends. But for now...thank you.

In the words of the Parting Glass:

Goodnight and joy be with you all.

(Song is 'The Last of the Bards' by Karliene. It's good, go listen.)


End file.
